


midnight in paris

by wafflesofdoom



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 1, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: the end of a relationship is supposed to be the hardest part, but the last night aaron sees robert, it’s the first promise of a happy ending he gets from the other man. a year, to sort their problems, and they’ll meet back in paris, and give their love the chance it deserves, after the whirlwind of a year they'd spent together, in paris, falling more in love than either of them had been before.what could possibly go wrong in a year?





	midnight in paris

**Author's Note:**

> posting this fic is honestly one of the most nerve-wracking fandom related things i've ever done. it's consumed my life for the last three or four months, and i'm really happy with how it's turned out, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i mostly (we had a few disasters) enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> a massive thank you to my incredible artist alex (robertjacobsugdens) who created the most gorgeous, amazing posters and playlists for this fic, and has generally been the most amazing person to work on this with (as she's ridiculously patient, considering how much i procrastinated on this at times, and is just the kindest most supportive person out there. i'm obsessed, if you couldn't tell.)
> 
> also a massive thank you to malorie (robertisbisexual) because this fic honestly wouldn't have gotten finished without here (literally lmao, malorie had like 4k of this saved on her computer when i lost a big chunk of this.) it takes a village to write a fic this long, basically!
> 
> a few prior warnings - gordon's abuse of aaron is a recurring theme in this fic, though in no more explicit detail than we saw on the show, and there's also some discussion of aaron's self harm, and a scene where aaron contemplates returning to his self harming habits. again, it's not graphic, but it's definitely in there.
> 
> other than that, enjoy!
> 
> (ps., although the title is inspired by the movie midnight in paris, none of the rest of the fic is. it's still a great movie, just in no way relevant to this story.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_all cowardice comes from not loving, or not loving well, which is the same thing_

_\- midnight in paris (2011)_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“If you think you could still love me a year from now, meet me here.” Robert said, a bright grin on his face as they stretched out on the grass, beers in hand. It was getting close to midnight now, and even after the so many times he’d seen it, Aaron still felt a bubble of anticipation in his stomach as they waited for the Eiffel Tower to light up.

He’d never admit it aloud, but it had felt magical, that first time Robert had brought him to watch the tower light up. Aaron had seen it before, with Ed, but with Robert - well, his heart had been in his mouth and Robert’s lips had been on his neck, murmuring softly about how Paris was the only place in the world where anyone should try and fall in love, really.

Glancing over at Robert, admiring the way his fringe was falling over his forehead, hair messy and soft, making him look so much younger than he was, Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You  _what_?”

Robert shifted so he was leaning on his side, giving Aaron an intent gaze. “I know we’ve both got our shit to sort out,” he said, glancing at the wedding ring that still sat on his finger, mind still clearly on the life in America he’d only really stepped out of, the life that was waiting for him to come back to. “But if we’ve got it sorted in a years time, we’ll give it a proper go.”

“You’re  _mad,_ ” Aaron snorted, taking the wine bottle from Robert’s grip. He’d lost count, of the evenings they’d spent sprawled out on the grass, trading wine flavoured kisses and stupid jokes.

It felt like he was living in a movie sometimes, being with Robert, being with Robert in  _Paris_. He’d never imagined he’d feel such a connection with the city when he’d first moved over, but every inch, every winding street and tiny café, was painted with memories of Robert, of dates and kisses and arguments and all the ways they’d fallen in love, messy and wonderful and the  _very_  best thing he had in his life.

“Hear me out before you judge me!” Robert rolled his eyes, checking the date on his watch, the familiar scent of his cologne assaulting Aaron’s senses as he moved, their bodies inches from each other as they laid together, stretched out on the grass, one of Robert’s ankles hooked over his own. “It’s August 31st.”

“Well aware, mate.”

“Not your mate,” Robert smirked, before he continued. “Meet me right here, under the Eiffel Tower, before midnight on August 31st, 2018.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “And what if one of us doesn’t turn up?”

“Then we know its over,” Robert said, a sad crack to his voice as he spoke, as though he didn’t want to pretend as though the possibility of one of them not showing up was  _real_ , as though he couldn't accept the idea that this, them, could be over just like that.

Aaron couldn’t quite accept it either. “Just like that?” he asked, looking down at the sticky wine label, peeling the edge of it away from the glass bottle. He’d had a lot of moments like this, over the past year or so, moments when he’d wonder if he’d ever be able to let Robert go.

If he was strong enough to walk away.

“Just like that.” Robert confirmed, easing the wine bottle from Aaron’s fingers, so he could take a drink himself. He was wearing a floral shirt Aaron pretended to hate, more casual than Aaron often saw him, Robert a fan of fitted suits and expensive watches, ever the local on the fashionable streets of Paris. “A year to sort our shit, think you can do it?”

Aaron thought about Emmerdale, about the  _mess_  that awaited him if he went home, if he left the life he’d built for himself in Paris and faced up to the problems he had in England.

Thought about the life in America Robert still had, the wife he had to divorce, the  business empire he’d helped to build that he stood to lose, if he left her.

“Do you think you can?” he countered, amused at the glimmer of shock that crossed Robert’s face.

“I’d do it for you.” Robert said quietly, saying everything he couldn’t with his eyes, with those gorgeous, open, expressive eyes of his. They were similar, in a lot of ways, both of them unsure of how to truly express their love, the depths of what they shared.

It was scary, to love someone the way they loved each other.

_But whats life without a little fear?_

Eva’s favourite phrase rung in his mind as he mulled over the proposition, thought over the absolutely ridiculous plan Robert had just suggested.

“Okay,” Aaron breathed his agreement.

“Yeah?”

“It’s absolutely  _mental_ , but yeah. I’ll meet you here this day next year,” Aaron laughed, laughed at the ridiculousness of what he was agreeing to. Who knows where he would be in a year, what he would want?

 ** _Who_**  he’d want.

He’d want Robert.  _Of course_  he’d want Robert, of course he’d want to man he’d spent eleven months falling in love with, the man who’d opened his eyes to a whole new world, a whole new life filled with happiness, and endless long, happy days full of love.

A life he’d never thought he could have, if he was honest.

Aaron had never believed he’d get his fairytale ending, the happy ever after and the husband, not after he’d come out. Being gay, it had been a struggle from day one, to come to terms with it, and Aaron had begun to think he was destined for a life of failed relationships and brief interludes of happiness.

And then he’d met Robert.

This smug, pain in the arse businessman who had changed his entire world, changed how he looked at the world.

“Promise me then.” Robert nudged, holding out a pinky finger, making Aaron laugh as he hooked his finger around Robert’s, holding tight.

“I promise you, Robert Jacob Sugden, that if I still love you in a year, I’ll be right here at midnight.” Aaron recited solemnly, pulling a face as he made the ridiculous promise to his boyfriend.

“I promise you the same, Aaron Dingle.” Robert sealed their promise with a kiss, holding Aaron close as they kissed, a hand on the back of Aaron’s head, cradling him close.

Aaron revelled in the feeling, knowing tonight was the last he’d get with Robert, the blonde on a one way flight back to Boston in the morning, knowing he too would have some big decisions to make, knowing he’d have to decide if he’d go back to Emmerdale, if he’d face up to everything he’d done, the chaos he’d left behind.

But that was tomorrow. That was  _all_  for tomorrow.

The world lit up golden as the Eiffel Tower came to life, lighting up the Parisian night sky. Robert grinned at him, hair as golden as the sparkling tower, a wide smile on his face.

“Anyway, we’ll always have Paris,” he quipped, eyes bright as he laughed at his own joke.

Aaron snorted, holding Robert close. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Travelling for work or pleasure?”

Aaron looked up as the customs officer gave him a pleasant smile, holding his (fake) passport. “I’m going home,” he confirmed, nerves rising in his chest as he realised this was the first leg of his journey home to Emmerdale. “I’m going home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was something about walking around Paris at night that always had a way of calming Aaron down. He’d lived in the city for close to two years now, and he had a few places, a few routes, he’d always walk if he needed to clear his head.

He was okay now, a lot of the time. Really, he was - Aaron was making things work for himself in Paris. He mightn’t be with Ed anymore, but a breakup wasn’t going to drive him away from the city he’d called home for two years, and so he’d stuck it out.

Stuck it out, and made a life for himself. He was a manger, at a bar in the city centre, a bustling tourist spot in the summer, and twice as busy come Christmas, and New Years, when everyone would flock to Paris in search of something.

It was cliche, it was cheesy - but Aaron got it, got the appeal of Paris. He’d come here searching for something too, an escape, a happier life, just  _something_ , so he would understand the fresh faces that would turn up at the cafe in search of work for the summer, determined to take a little bit of that Paris magic for themselves.

There was definitely something magic about the city, Aaron mused, as he wandered across the bridge, pausing midway. He was a Yorkshire boy at heart, born and bred in the north, but Emmerdale didn’t feel like home anymore.

No where had felt like home for him for a long time, but Paris was getting close.

Leaning on the bridge, Aaron focused on the water, the familiar surroundings of the Pont Notre Dame his company for the evening. It was late September now, the weather beginning to change, autumn kicking in and bringing an evening breeze that he’d forgotten was part of daily life after a scaldingly hot summer, all sunshine and mid-twenties, Aaron still bearing the last of a golden tan on his skin, as though his body was still clinging to summer.

He did like summer, in Paris. Aaron liked how easy it was to get lost in a city overrun by tourists, how easy it was to blend into the background when the city was filled with sightseers.

Aaron took a deep breath, feeling his panic, his nerves finally subside a little.

He was okay now,  _mostly_.

Aaron figured he’d always have bad days, bad nights like this, when he’d need to get on a metro and just go somewhere other than the little flat he shared with Eva, and clear his head.

There was a lot going on in his head, after all.

Aaron gazed at the water for a few more minutes, watching the steady flow of the Seine in the almost dusk, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal before he decided he should probably head home.

Turning, Aaron was met with the sight of a couple eagerly trying to take a selfie, the dusky evening sky and the beginnings of a beautiful Sunday evening in Paris making for what he could only assume was a romantic new Facebook picture ( _he’d been asked to take enough of them, in the years since he’d moved to Paris._ )

Being single in the city of love, Aaron had discovered, was the oddest feeling.

He and Ed had broken up for a reason, and it had been amicable enough, in the end. Ed’s rugby career was blossoming, and he was either at games, or training camps, and Aaron hated being alone in their little apartment so often, and well - Ed had always felt like he’d loved more, and there was no coming back from that, was there?

He was still a friend.

Ed would text, every so often, ask to meet up for a beer, or call into the bar where Aaron worked. Aaron knew it was his ex-boyfriend checking up on him, but funnily enough, seeing a familiar face every once in a while was a comfort, more than it was an annoyance.

They had their own lives, though, and Ed had a new boyfriend, some ridiculously gorgeous banker Aaron had definitely  _not_  stalked on Facebook, and well - Aaron had the Paris gay scene at his feet.

It had been a  _lot_ , at the start, but now he was kind of grateful for the fact he didn’t see the same faces every night out like he had always done at Bar West, back when the pokey little bar in Hotten was his only place to meet a prospective shag.

The anonymity of it made it fun, but sometimes -  _just sometimes_  - he’d see a couple loved up on one of the bridges of Paris, and he’d feel a twinge of jealousy. That had been him and Ed once, their first few months in the city. They’d done it all, love locks and cheesy selfies under the Eiffel Tower, and a part of Aaron ached to be loved like that again.

He mostly tried to focus on the part of him that was enjoying being twenty three and single in one of Europe’s biggest cities.

Tugging the zip of his hoodie up to his chin, Aaron started his walk toward the nearest Metro station.

It was funny, really, how used to the big city he’d gotten.

Hotten was tiny, in the grand scheme of things, and he’d lived in a little village since he was sixteen - but somehow, he fit in here. Or maybe it was just that Aaron liked to blend into the background and be absolutely unnoticeable, not the token gay kid in the village, not Chas Dingle’s wayward son - here, he was just another guy on the Metro, going about his life.

Aaron practically breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the train pulled off the platform, giving him a few minutes to sit and breath before the next one came along.

“Sorry, could I - could I ask you if I’m on the right line?”

Aaron looked up as a man with incredibly broken French spoke to him, a hint of an English accent clouding his words. “You not from around here?” he asked, switching to English, figuring it’d be easier than trying to navigate this conversation in French.

“You’re English?” the man’s eyes widened, a deep blue-green that seemed to light up at the prospect of talking to someone who spoke your language. He was  _gorgeous_ , Aaron noted, blond hair and confidence oozing from every inch of him, a brown leather jacket chucked over a neatly pressed white shirt.

He wasn’t Aaron’s type, if he was honest - he tended to gravitate towards lads lads, fairly obviously, considering his most recent ex-boyfriend was a rugby player, a soon to be international rugby player at that, Ed’s career blossoming at Racing 92.

But something about Robert was intriguing, the clearly English man speaking with the hint of an American twang, new to the city and happy to latch onto Aaron, for a few minutes at least.

Aaron nodded. “Live here, though,” he said, not wanting to discourage him from asking whatever he needed to ask. “Where are you looking to go?”

The blond man looked at his phone, reading off a Metro stop name, unsure. “Châtelet Les Halles?”

“You’re on the right line,” Aaron confirmed, jerking his head toward the pinky-purple marking that signposted this as Metro line 4. “Its about four stops from here, I can tell you when to get off, if ya like.”

The man gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he said. “I figured I’d get to know Paris like a local, you know, and I managed to get lost first go around. I’m Robert, by the way.”

“Aaron,” Aaron returned the greeting, giving him a genuine smile. “Learning to get around this is the worst part about living here,” he said. “You on holidays?”

“Here for the next year or so,” Robert replied, twisting a battered tourist map between his fingers. “I moved here alone, so I figured getting out and about was the best plan, wanted to see the sights.”

“I’ve lived here two years,” Aaron offered, glancing up at the electronic timetable that told him the next train would be there in two minutes.

“Long way from…. Yorkshire?” Robert guessed, clearly trying to place Aaron’s accent. He’d lost a lot of the thick Yorkshire accent he’d grown up with, having lived in Paris for so long, but it was probably still familiar enough.

“Yeah, good guess.”

Robert smiled, a brilliant, bright smile. “I’m from Yorkshire myself,” he admitted, Aaron recognising a faint American twang to his accent as he spoke, mixed in with an altogether neutral English accent. “Haven’t lived there in a long time.”

“What part?” Aaron inquired, not wanting to admit how much he was enjoying hearing a familiar accent, talking to someone else who grew up in his part of the world. There was plenty of British people in Paris, but none from around his parts - Ed would always tease it was because Yorkshire people weren’t ever supposed to speak French.

“Around about Leeds, you?”

“The same,” Aaron nodded. “Funny coincidence, that.”

“Its a small world,” Robert said, glancing up as a train pulled into the platform. “Is this us?”

Aaron nodded, easing himself up off the seat he’d been perched on. “You living around Châtelet Les Halles, then?” he inquired as they stepped onto the relatively quiet train, the two of them managing to get a little booth to themselves, Aaron spreading himself out across two seats.

Robert nodded. “It seems nice,” he shrugged. “I don’t really know Paris.”

“It’s nice,” Aaron confirmed, a vague picture of the area in his mind. “Expensive, though.”

“Where isn’t in Paris?” Robert joked.

“Stay on this line for about eleven more stops and you’ll get a flat thats almost worth the money you pay for it,” Aaron said, thinking of the rickety building he’d called home since his breakup with Ed. “Doesn’t look like you’re short of the money, though.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“You look like one of them posh twats that does their shopping on the Champs Elyseé,” Aaron smirked, eyes scanning the expensive looking leather jacket Robert was wearing, the tailored cut of his shirt, the heavy looking watch on his hand. Aaron wasn’t an idiot - he’d been around the block enough to know when someone had money, and Robert looked like he had it.

“I’m setting up a European headquarters of the company I work for in America,” Robert admitted, fingers tapping against his knee in a weird sort of nervous habit, not unlike the million annoying habits Aaron himself had. He held himself with confidence, Robert, but as he spoke about work, he seemed to clam up a little.

Which was  _weird_ , but then again, Aaron had only known the guy for five minutes, so he figured it was none of his business.

“I work at a bar,” Aaron countered, quickly checking the stop name, making sure he hadn’t caused Robert to miss his stop. “It’s not half as fancy as what you’re doing, or owt, but I make decent money in tips.”

Robert laughed, the expression lighting up his own face. “Enough in tips to be able to live in Paris?”

Aaron shrugged. “Summat about this city,” he said, biting his tongue before he said anymore. He didn’t exactly want to start mouthing out to this stranger about why he thought Paris was the only place in the world for him, didn’t want to scare him off too quickly.

Not when in another stop, he’d probably never see Robert again.

“Maybe you could show me what that summat is, someday,” Robert suggested, a lower, more flirty tone to his voice, making his intentions all too clear.

“Maybe,” Aaron responded shortly, grin fixed in place on his face. “This is your stop.”

Robert looked up as the train slowed to a stop at the platform, Châtelet Les Halles written in tiles above their heads. “That was the shortest train journey I’ve ever been on,” he said, standing up slowly, reluctantly.

“The beauty of the Paris metro, innit? Best way to get around,” Aaron smirked, jerking his head toward the doors. “They only stay open for so long.”

Robert rolled his eyes, heading toward the doors. “Am I ever going to see you again then?” he asked, a hopeful edge to his voice.

“Maybe we were supposed to just have this one train journey,” Aaron teased, enjoying the banter they seemed to have between them, even now, after only ten minutes spent in each others company.

Robert’s face fell slightly, and he moved to leave the train.

“Café 47.” Aaron called out, Robert giving him a confused look in return. “Its where I work, Café 47 - if you ever fancy seeing Paris from a sort of local’s point of view.”

Robert had to get off the train before he could respond, but he flashed Aaron a wide grin from the platform, Aaron unable to stop the happy feeling that spread through his chest as he watched the blond man disappear from view, the train speeding up again.

It was exactly how he’d expected his Sunday stroll to go, but Aaron was never going to be one for feeling put out by meeting a handsome stranger, was he?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron had been home for exactly four days, when the police came calling.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting it, considering the last thing he’d done before he left Emmerdale, left England, was set fire to Gordon’s car.

“Mr Livesy, can we have a word?”

Aaron felt nerves bubble in his stomach as he looked at the officers. “I was actually going to come and talk to you,” he said, gesturing for the police officers to come in. “I want to report a crime.”

One of the officer raised an eyebrow, waiting for Aaron to continue.

“Child abuse,” Aaron said simply, thinking of the conversations he’d had with Robert, his mum, Paddy about this. “I want to report someone for child abuse.”

“Who?”

“My dad,” Aaron said, hoping if he sounded confident, firm, they wouldn’t notice how his hands were shaking. “I want to report my dad, Gordon Livsey. He raped me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron didn't mind being a manager, most of the time. He was surprisingly good at it, considering he’d never considered himself much of an actual leader, but he got on with the rest of the staff at the café, and they liked him well enough. It made for an easy life, considering how busy they usually were.

It was a particularly busy Thursday night, when Robert arrived to the bar. Aaron was elbow deep in making cocktails for a table of tourists when he spotted him, the blond man sporting his brown leather jacket again, a maroon coloured skirt underneath it today.

Aaron allowed himself a couple of seconds to enjoy Robert’s appearance from across the bar, before he gave a slight wave, catching Robert’s attention immediately. He was mid measuring out rum for the batch of mojitos he was making when Robert managed to push his way through the crowd, leaning against the bar.

“Hi,” he greeted, leaning in a little closer so he could be heard over the noise.

“Hi,” Aaron returned the greeting. “You picked a bad night.”

Robert’s face fell. “Sorry, I - I didn’t have a way of texting you,” he flustered, more looking more embarrassed that Aaron had thrown him off, more than anything.

Aaron laughed. “I’m joking,” he teased, concentration on the drinks as he poured out the rum, not wanting to mess them up even slightly. The bar had a reputation for being one of the best in the area, and even some gorgeous blond standing half an inch from his face wasn’t going to change that. “That would have been a good way to ask for my number, though.”

“Are you giving me tips on how to flirt with you?” Robert laughed, pushing up the sleeves of his leather jacket slightly.

Aaron grinned. “Well, you clearly need the help,” he said, finishing the drinks with as much of a flourish as he could muster, after years of bar work. “Max? Will you take these to table eight, please.”

One of his newest hires, a university student who never seemed to actually be at university, working as many hours as Aaron did, nodded, picking up the tray with ease.

“So you’re the boss then?” Robert inquired, sitting down on one of the newly free bar stools. He shrugged off his jacket, Aaron trying his best not to stare at how the shirt was tight across his chest, and arms, the display mouthwatering.

“Something like that,” Aaron confirmed. “What are you drinking?”

“What do you recommend?” Robert asked.

“I’m a beer man,” Aaron admitted, leaning over the bar slightly. “The French have a few alright ones, but I’d kill for a proper pint of lager, if I’m honest.”

Robert laughed. “I’ve lived in America for years, haven’t had a proper pint in a long time,” he admitted, messing with a corner of the beer mat in front of him, the name of the cafe emblazoned in bright red lettering.

“I won’t force a Stella on you then,” Aaron joked, trying to think. He knew the menu by heart, now, knew every single kind of cocktail someone could order, knew what whiskeys and gins and rums they had on offer. He didn’t know much about Robert, but he could still try and impress a little. “Rum or whiskey?”

Robert squinted at him. “Whiskey,” he said, decisive. “Rum reminds me of when I was nineteen and used to down Captain Morgans before I went for a night in town.”

Aaron laughed. “I was a Tesco value vodka kind of lad,” he admitted, thinking back to the nights when he’d get absolutely off his face with Adam, and Holly, and Vic, drinking back the cheap vodka without a second thought, the regret the morning after something else entirely.

Robert pulled a face. “Really?” he grimaced. “I’m pretty sure that stuff is actually paint stripper."

“It probably is,” Aaron agreed, busying himself making the cocktail, ingredients all on hand. “Good thing we’re older and wiser now then, innit?’

“Wiser?” Robert raised an eyebrow.

“I pretend to be,” Aaron said, quiet for a few seconds as he finished the two cocktails, setting one down in front of Robert. “Whiskey sour,” he almost announced, waiting for Robert’s reaction.

“Simple, but always good,” Robert hummed his agreement, clinking his glass against Aaron’s. “Good choice.”

“I know my drinks,” Aaron shrugged. “So. How are you finding Paris?”

“It’s a beautiful city,” Robert nodded, taking a sip of his drink, an appreciative look on his face. “I do feel like I’m only seeing the touristy bits, you know?”

“The touristy bits are fun, though,” Aaron said, glancing around to make sure the bar wasn’t too hectic, that he wasn’t needed to alleviate the queue. He had good staff, he noted, eager and busy and always on top of things.

“I’m sure the locals perspective is just as good,” Robert said. “Are you on for the night?”

“You’re in luck,” Aaron checked his watch, realising he only had a few minutes left until he could leave, Henri the manager in charge that evening. The perks of being the more senior of the two of them, he supposed, he got the nicer shifts. “I finish at seven.”

“Could you be convinced to give me a bit of a locals perspective on Paris then?” Robert asked, a grin a mile wide fixed in place on his face.

“Provided theres chips in it for me,” Aaron said, downing the last of his drink. “I’m starving.”

“I think I could stretch for a bag of chips,” Robert laughed, swirling his drink around the glass.

“Then I think I can knock off early,” Aaron grinned, nodding at Robert’s drink. “Knock that back, and I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes.”

Before Robert could reply, Aaron was making his way down the bar, Henri giving a dressing down to one of their other new waitresses. If Aaron was the manager they all got on with, Henri was the one who played bad cop.

He was a good mate, he really was, but he did like things to be done right, and done perfectly right.

“Mate, I’m going to knock off,” Aaron said, winking at Ellie, giving her an out, the barely out of her teenage years girl scrambling out from behind the bar, back to collecting glasses.

“She’s useless,” Henri rolled his eyes. “A lovely girl,  _sure_ , but useless.”

“Don’t be so hard on her,” Aaron replied, laughing at Henri’s infuriated expression. “We’ll end up looking for new bar staff again, if you don’t stop being such a dick.”

“It’s the most appealing part of my personality,” Henri deadpanned, glancing across the bar at Robert. “Who’s the blond?”

“He’s none of your business,” Aaron shook his head, about to duck behind the bar and into the staff room, sensing another rush was about to begin. If he left at a vaguely quiet time, Henri couldn’t give him too much shit for skiving off early - if he stayed, he’d get stuck making overpriced mojitos for tourists for another hour, at least.

“Don’t have too much fun!”

Aaron ignored Henri, heading out the back, and into the back hallway, into the staff room. It was spacious enough, thankfully, a couch in the corner he’d kipped on more than once, lockers in the corner.

It was better than most of the places he’d worked back home in England, anyway.

Aaron shrugged out of his tie, shoving it into his locker, shrugging on a jacket. His mum had teased, when she’d been to see him last, that he actually dressed himself properly, that he was finally catching on with the fashion of Paris, but Aaron didn’t really think he was.

Not when he looked at someone like Robert.

Aaron hated how his heart sped up as he thought about Robert, the relative stranger already having too much of a hold on him. It had just been so long, since he’d actually liked anyone, on  _any_  level, in any way.

It had been lonely, since Ed.

Patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone, and wallet, Aaron headed for the doors, weaving his way through the busy bar. He’d never get used to how hectic life in Paris was, how busy it always seemed.

It was so different to the life he’d grown up with in Emmerdale, it was insane. He remembered being able to look out his window and see the stars, a clear night sky above the village - he looked out his window now, and he’d just see the city of Paris spreading out around him, what looked like infinite miles of bright lights and buildings stretching out as far as the eye could see.

_Maybe they were just different types of stars._

“So,” Aaron greeted, coming to a standstill next to Robert, who was standing just inside the doorway of the bar, hands in the pockets of his jacket, ever the model. “Where to?”

“You’re the local,” Robert replied with a grin. “You wanted chips though, right?”

Aaron was thoughtful for a second, before an idea dawned on him. “Come on,” he jerked his head toward the nearby Metro stop. “I’ve got somewhere we can go.”

“Do I get a hint?”

Aaron shook his head. “No,” he said decisively, rooting in his pocket for his Metro card. “You’re just going to have to trust me, aren’t you?”

Robert laughed, the sound echoing around the tiled surroundings of the station. “So you could be taking me anywhere?”

Aaron grinned. “You took that risk when you decided to ask out a stranger,” he shrugged.

“Oh, I asked you out, did I?” Robert raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who told me where you worked.”

“You’re the one who came and found me,” Aaron pointed out, jerking his head toward the metro that had just pulled in, people pouring out of the doors. That was the thing with Paris, really - it was always so busy, so full of people rushing  _somewhere_. Aaron was one of those people, more often than not, so when he had the chance to just, soak up the bright lights of the city and all it had to offer, he liked to take it.

“That’s a fair point,” Robert inclined his head slightly. “You still said yes, though.”

“I guess we’re both at fault here, then,” Aaron laughed, leaning against the back of one of the seats. He’d lived in Paris for long enough that he could handle the shake of the metro and not get sent flying at every corner, but Robert clearly wasn’t, stumbling slightly as the train car took a sharp corner a little too quickly.

Without even thinking, Aaron reached out, a strong arm around Robert’s waist. “Hold on,” he said.

“To you?” Robert said, flirtatious as ever now he’d found his balance again, not moving away from Aaron’s grip.

“I mean the bar,” Aaron gestured overhead.

“Boring,” Robert pulled a face, reaching for the overhead bar. “I thought we were going to be like the couple over there,” he gestured at two people a few seats down from where they were standing, the girl standing in her boyfriends embrace, the boyfriend keeping the two of them steady on the moving train.

Standard behaviour, really, if a little too close to PDA for Aaron’s liking.

Aaron shrugged. “You’ve got to buy me chips first, haven’t you?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The police station was cold.

Aaron had been there for hours now, going through the motions with the police officers because of the criminal damage charge put against him for setting fire to Gordon’s car, waiting for a special detective to come talk to him about the child abuse allegations.

A year ago, he was in Paris, and he was having his first date with Robert.

What a different a year makes, eh?

“Aaron Livsey?”

“I - I prefer Dingle,” Aaron admitted, standing up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m going to change it.”

The detective nodded. “Okay, no problem. I’m DS Wise, I’ll be taking the lead on your case. Can you come with me?” he inquired, jerking his head toward a room Aaron hadn’t been in before.

It wasn’t like a normal interview room, it was more like a sitting room, a few couches, a kettle in the corner.

“I know this will be hard for you, Aaron, but I need you to try and tell me every detail you remember about what your father did to you,” DS Wise said. “If you don’t feel up to it right now, we can put pause on this, you can come back tomorrow - you can have someone sit in with you, if you need it.”

Aaron shook his head, taking a few deep breaths. “No, I can do it.”

“Whenever you’re ready, speak as clearly as you can, as this is being recorded,” DS Wise said, gesturing to the camera behind him. “State your name, and why you’re here.”

“My name is Aaron Livsey,” Aaron said, glancing into the camera lens. “And I’m here because my dad repeatedly raped me when I was a kid.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know why we couldn’t just eat the chips there,” Robert grumbled, sounding slightly out of breathe as he trudged up the stairs behind Aaron. Complaining, Aaron noted, seemed to be one of Robert’s better skills in life.

Aaron stopped, turning to glare at Robert. “I told you to trust me,” he pointed out, waving his lukewarm bag of chips at the other man, a coke can sticking out of his jacket pocket.

“I do, to a point,” Robert huffed up the last few steps, coming to stand next to Aaron. “I’m pretty sure this is a touristy thing to do, by the way.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to complain the entire time, I can just go home,” he pointed out, sneaking a chip out of the paper bag he was carrying. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was starving.

Robert held his hands up in surrender. “You’re in charge,” he winked.

Aaron was half tempted to roll his eyes again, but decided against it, turning his focus to the last set of steps. They trudged up them in silence, a buzz of chatter, and people the background noise as Aaron weaved his way through the crowd, finding a spot big enough for the two of them to sit it.

“So, why the Sacre Coeur then?” Robert asked, sitting down next to him, stretching his impossibly long legs out in front of him.

Aaron gestured in front of them. “It’s a good view, innit?”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “There’s more though.”

“The sunset here is epic,” Aaron admitted, glancing at his watch. “Should be starting soon, too.”

“I didn’t put you down as a romantic,” Robert teased, eyes bright in the fading light. He was gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that Aaron couldn’t imagine being interested in him, not when he’d learn all the broken, damaged parts of Aaron, the parts that had always made people run and hide.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, determined not to ruin it before it even got started, Aaron snorted. “It’s just a nice view,” he said, cracking open his can of coke.

“Do you like Paris then?” Robert inquired.

“I said I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but - what’s so great about it?” Robert asked, tucking into his own chips, completely at ease as he licked salt from his fingers, Aaron’s stomach doing summersaults as he watched. “Isn’t it just a cliche?”

“Probably,” Aaron admitted. “I like the anonymity of it,” he admitted, hoping it didn’t sound too strange. “I grew up in a village. Everyone always knew everyone else’s business, you know? I got tired of everyone poking their nose in.”

“And theres no one to poke their nose in here?”

“Pretty much,” Aaron ducked his head, a little embarrassed he’d turned their lighthearted conversation into something so much heavier. It was hardly first date appropriate, was it?

“I get it,” Robert said. “I grew up in a village too. It’s part of why I left, I guess - wanted to get away from the busybodies.”

Aaron laughed, thinking of Brenda, and her gossiping ways. “There’s always a few of those, isn’t there?”

Robert grinned. “More than a few. I’d be afraid I’d turn into one, if I went back - or if I hadn’t left at all. I’d be that lad sitting at the bar, listening into everyone else’s conversations, desperate for a bit of news.”

“No one wants to be that guy,” Aaron laughed. “You’d suit it though.”

“Oi, whats that supposed to mean?” Robert shoved at him. “Cheeky git.”

Aaron couldn’t help but grin as he realised just how English Robert sounded when he said certain things, the American twang of his accent gone. He sounded like home, like everything - and everyone - he’d left behind.

“In all seriousness,” Robert continued after a few minutes silence. “Whats your favourite thing about Paris?”

Aaron looked out ahead of them, the sky turning a dusky pink colour, twilight falling over the skyline of Paris. He’d been here a thousand times, with Ed, with their friends, alone - and every time, it felt like something special. “This,” he said decisively.

Robert followed his gaze, Aaron watching as an appreciative smile appeared on the other man’s face. “I can see why,” he hummed his agreement, shuffling a little closer to Aaron. He’d mostly finished his chips now, the paper crumpled in his lap.

Aaron could smell the woody scent of whatever cologne Robert was wearing as he other man sat closer, their shoulders pressed together. “It - it makes me remember why I like it here so much,” he admitted. “When I get annoyed by how busy it is.”

“It’s amazing,” Robert agreed, Aaron feeling his gaze on Aaron now, not on the sunset, not on the street performers that always seemed to crop up around the steps when the sun would start to go down, tourists enthralled by their antics.

Aaron’s stomach was in knots as he turned to look at Robert, the other man gazing at him intently. “You’re not watching,” he said stupidly, unable to tear his gaze away from Robert, back to the sunset they’d spent so long climbing up to see.

“Maybe you’re the view.”

Before Aaron could reply, before he could laugh and tell Robert what an idiot he was, Robert’s lips were on his, the other man kissing him for all he was worth. It was probably cliche to say it (but it had been a cliche evening, hadn’t it?) but kissing Robert felt like everything he'd been missing from his life the past few months, passionate, and all-consuming, and right.

Aaron gripped tightly to the front of Robert’s jacket as they kissed, barely holding in a soft moan as Robert’s teeth grazed against his bottom lip.

“Either we stay here, and put on a show,” Robert murmured as they broke apart, lips inches from each other. “Or we go back to mine.”

“Yours,” Aaron said, already scrambling to his feet, pulling Robert along with him. “Definitely yours.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d barely made it to Robert’s apartment in the end. Aaron couldn’t help but smile to himself as he remembered how they’d kissed the entire Metro journey, sitting, every inch of them pressed together, the hard plastic seat digging into Aaron’s back. They’d broken apart at every stop, just to check where they were. 

Robert had just about unlocked the door before he’d pinned Aaron to a wall and given him the blowjob of his life, leaving his legs weak and his knees buckling, barely giving him a chance to catch his breath before Robert was tugging him down the hallway, Aaron on his back on sheets a thousand times more comfortable than the scratchy duvet he had at home.

He couldn’t wipe the self satisfied smirk from his face he he stretched, his muscles aching in the most delicious way, Robert’s handiwork blooming in a dark purple bruise on the inside of his thigh, a psychical reminder of how easy it had been for Robert to just take him apart, leave him practically sobbing into a pillow.

Aaron sat up, disappointed Robert wasn’t curled up asleep next to him. He could hear Robert’s voice drifting down the hallway, so he decided to go and investigate, tugging his boxers up over his hips, glad of the fact he’d left them, and his t-shirt within reach.

Robert’s apartment was beautiful. It was the kind of apartment you’d see in design magazines, the ones that would wax poetical about Parisian living, the kind of lifestyle only a few could afford - high ceilings, and open spaces, every inch of Robert’s flat oozing expense, and class.

“I know I should have answered last night, Lawrence, but I told you - I was out with a client,” Robert said, his back to Aaron as he spoke.

_A client?_

“Well, I either miss a few phonecalls to make sure I get us the right clients, or I sit at home with my phone in hand, waiting for you to call?” Robert said snappily. “Yeah, I thought so. Tell her I’m sorry, and I’ll call later. I’ve got to go, I’ve got meetings scheduled all day.”

Robert hung before whoever was on the other end could reply, slamming his phone down on the kitchen counter.

“I can go, if you’ve got meetings,” Aaron said quietly, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether or not he was welcome now, frustration rolling off Robert in waves.

Robert shook his head, taking a steadying breath. “That was a blatant lie,” he grinned. “I don’t have any meetings until tomorrow, I just didn’t fancy spending the morning getting my ear chewed off by some old dolt who thinks he knows the business I built better than I do.”

“Shitty boss then?”

“You could say that,” Robert was naked save for his boxers, the black material hugging his thighs, his arse in a way that made Aaron’s mouth water. He’d thought Robert was gorgeous before, sure, but now they’d had sex, now he’d seen what Robert was hiding under layers of expensive clothes - well, gorgeous didn’t quite cover it.

“Perks of being a manager,” Aaron shrugged, letting Robert crowd him against the kitchen counter, their bodies pressed flush together. “I’m my own boss.”

“One day, I’m going to be my own boss,” Robert leaned in, pressing a slow, languid kiss against Aaron’s lips. “Before that though, I’ve got a shower that needs breaking in.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron really needed to go home. It was getting uncomfortably close to evening time, and if he ended up staying, well - he’d have spent close to an entire day with Robert already, another night would make it a little much, for a first time.

But Robert seemed determined not to let him leave.

“I should go home,” Aaron said, trying not to be swayed by the now familiar fingers that were tracing patterns on his side, Robert’s arm draped over him as though it was the easiest thing in the world, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

That was the thing, Aaron supposed. It felt normal, and after just a day? That was terrifying.

“Why?”

“Because I need to shower -“

“You can shower here.”

Aaron glared at him. “I need to shower,” he repeated. “And change my clothes. I can’t stay in your bed forever, Robert.”

Robert smirked. “Oh, but I think you can,” he smirked. He looked good like this, hair a mess (Aaron’s doing), a scattering of blooming bruises and love bites along his collarbone (also Aaron’s doing, he noted with a self satisfied grin), and deliciously, brilliantly unkempt, relaxed, at ease.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “I can’t go again,” he shook his head.

“Let’s just talk then,” Robert shifted onto his side, propping up his head in one hand, looking at Aaron intently.

“Talk?”

“Yeah, you know that thing that humans do when they want to know more about each other?” Robert teased.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to get to know you,” Robert gave a slight shrug (as much as he could, lying on his side.) “What footie team do you support?”

“None,” Aaron tugged the duvet up around his chest. He’d never been much of a one for sport, really. “I don’t like football.”

“Really?” Robert sounded surprised.

“Why, have all blokes got to like it?”

“No, you just struck me as the type, I guess,” Robert shrugged. “I like Sheffield United, by the way.”

Aaron laughed. “Means nothing to me unless you’re talking about the place, mate.”

“Do you like any sport?”

“My ex is a rugby player,” Aaron admitted. “He plays for Racing 92. I went to a few of their games, to be the dutiful boyfriend n’all, but I never really got into it.” 

Robert gave a low whistle. “A rugby player, eh? Should I be jealous?”

“Not unless you want to muscle in on his relationship with a banker,” Aaron pulled a face. Banking just sounded mind-numbingly boring, however attractive Ed’s new boyfriend was.

Robert returned the look. “Bankers are boring,” he shook his head. “He’s missing out, not being with you anymore.”

“It’s not…” Aaron trailed off, not wanting Robert to think there was still something there, that there was anything left between him and Ed. “It’s not like theres anything there, anymore. He’d a mate, you know? He checks up on me every now and then, but it’s not like I’d go back there.”

“Why?” Robert asked, genuinely curious.

“He loved me more than I ever loved him, I think,” Aaron admitted. “The breakup was the best thing for both of us.”

“Did you move out here to be with him?”

Aaron was quiet for a second, thinking of the life he’d left behind in Emmerdale, the chaos he’d left his family to deal with on his behalf. “Yeah,” he lied. “He got offered the contract with Racing, and I fancied a change of scenery.”

“And you stayed, even after the breakup?”

“I like Paris,” Aaron said simply. “Why, would you have gone home?”

Robert nodded. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Running from an ex?”

Robert nodded again, quiet for a second before he spoke. “I moved to America, to be with her,” he admitted. “I was only 22, and - I don’t really have family, so she was all I had for a long time.”

“She?”

“Bisexual,” Robert said, looking defensive. “Why, is it a problem?”

“No - no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Aaron shook his head. “I just - I’ve dated guys who were in the closet before, and I always ended up being the one who gets hurt.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m out,” Robert admitted. “But I figured if Paris was going to be my new start, I might as well start embracing that part of me, you know?”

Aaron felt oddly proud, considering he’d only known Robert for a few hours - a day or two, at the most. “It’s not easy,” he said. “Never is.”

“At least theres a light at the end of the tunnel, eh?” Robert teased, the furrow in his brow giving away how he really felt about Aaron’s offhand comment.

“You accepting yourself is the only thing that matters,” Aaron quipped. “Ed - my ex - he used to tell me that a lot. I didn’t - I’ve never really been proud of being gay, you know? But I’ve accepted it’s who I am, and that helps.”

“Is it inappropriate to ask when you came out? I don’t really know the etiquette around it all,” Robert pulled a face, clearly uncomfortable with the phrasing - or the topic, Aaron didn’t really know him well enough to know the ins and outs of his facial expressions.

“I was eighteen,” Aaron said, hoping his very definitive answer would put a stop to any more questions. That, he knew, was not exactly pillow talk, and it certainly wasn’t pillow talk when you’d only known the guy you were sleeping with for a day or so.

“Whats your favourite band then?” to his credit, Robert seemed to pick up on the hint.

“I like Sigma.”

“I honestly don’t know who that is,” Robert admitted, facing screwing up with laughter.

“Old man,” Aaron teased. “It’s like - dance music, I guess.”

“That would be exactly why I have no idea who that is,” Robert said. “I like the older stuff. Fleetwood Mac, and eighties music in general, I guess.”

“Way before my time.”

“Oi, how old do you think I am?” Robert swatted at him.

“Like, fifty, or summat,” Aaron joked, ducking another half hearted slap from Robert.

“I’m twenty nine,” Robert said. “So it’s not like the eighties were my time, either.”

“Sort of were though,” Aaron grinned wickedly. “Old man.”

“Why, how old are you?”

“Twenty three,” Aaron said. “I’ll be twenty four in January.”

“I’m a cradle snatcher,” Robert feigned horror. “We’re practically in different decades!”

“You feeling a bit insecure there?”

“Little bit,” Robert joked, shifting so he was lying on his back, stretching out properly. Unashamedly naked, Robert didn’t even seem bothered that the duvet was mostly hanging off him, expanses of pale skin and freckles on view.

“Fleetwood Mac then,” Aaron said, vaguely recognising the name. He was sure his mum was a fan, or maybe it was Lisa who used to fill Wishing Well with their music, scratched CDs blaring from the tinny radio in the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know their music.”

“I don’t know if I do.”

“Aaron, come on. They’re like - the band of a generation,” Robert sat up, looking positively offended Aaron didn’t know who they were.

“Not my generation though.”

Robert rolled his eyes, reaching over Aaron to grab his phone from his bedside locker. “You, Aaron, are about to get a musical education,” he said, already bringing up his music, unfamiliar album artwork flicking across the screen.

“I can’t wait,” Aaron deadpanned, shifting so he was sitting against the headboard too.

(And if he ended up staying at Robert’s for the second night in a row, curled up in bed and listening to Fleetwood Mac, only leaving to grab the pizza they’d ordered for themselves from the delivery guy, well - Aaron couldn’t really complain about having to wear his work clothes for the third day in a row on his way home.)

(Second, really. It’s not like they’d gotten dressed, when they’d spent the day in bed.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron wasn’t sure someone had ever tried to sweep him off his feet. He’d dated people, sure, and gone on  _nice_  dates, but no one had ever tried to impress him the way Robert was.

Which was exactly how he’d ended up standing outside one of the nicest restaurants in Paris, dressed in a borrowed suit, and wishing he was anywhere else in the world. Aaron wasn’t exactly the time to get dressed up for dinner, and certainly not if it meant a full suit, and a menu that was going to result in a bill that totted up to his monthly rent.

Still, Robert had insisted, so he had to just, suck it up and get on with it, didn’t he?

Tugging nervously at the sleeves of the dark grey suit he’d borrowed from Henri, Aaron looked around for Robert, wishing he’d just arrive so they could get it over and done with.

“You don’t look half bad in a suit.”

Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he heard Robert’s voice, the flirtatious tone familiar now, after so many weeks of them being together. Robert did like to flirt.

“You don’t took too bad yourself,” Aaron shrugged, pretending as though his jaw hadn’t almost hit the floor when he'd first spotted Robert. He was wearing a dark, maroon coloured suit, the colour offsetting his blond hair and pale complexion in a way that made Aaron’s mouth water.

Robert leaned in to kiss him, the fact he was trying to stick his tongue down Aaron’s throat after about thirty seconds the only indication he was as affected by Aaron’s outfit, as Aaron was with his.

“If you actually want us to eat dinner,” Aaron pulled away, face flush as he tried to catch his breath. “We should probably stop, or I’m going to make you go back to yours.”

“However good that sounds, I nearly had to commit actual murder to get us a table here on a Friday night,” Robert laughed, taking Aaron by the hand, as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

It felt like it was, these days, Aaron’s fears and insecurities taking a backseat, his mind on Robert,  _being_  with Robert.  

Aaron plastered a smile on his face, and held back a comment on how he’d have preferred a McDonalds.

He was going to try and enjoy this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was barely listening, as Adam described the ridiculous restaurant Victoria had dragged him to the previous evening. Apparently it was some sort of overly fancy tapas restaurant, and Adam had clearly hated it, only putting up with it to keep Vic happy.

“Mate, I was  _starving_  by time we left, I had to go home and make myself beans on toast!” Adam snorted. “I can’t believe we paid that much money and it was all like - it was like party food, bits and pieces of everything.”

Aaron forced a smile, playing along with his best mates conversation. If he was being completely honest, the more Adam laughed, and joked about their posh date, the more Aaron was remembering of one he’d been on with Robert.

Their first fancy dinner date, and Aaron had hated every single second of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner was terrible.

No, that was a lie. The food was nice, sure, but the portions were tiny, and Aaron felt as though he was half starved by time they took their very empty dinner plates away, the mouthful of pasta the restaurant had considered a full meal not even close to enough food to stop his stomach feel as though it was eating itself.

And then there was the restaurant itself.

Aaron had never felt more out of place in his life, stuck in a corner table, surrounded by people who looked as though they did this every Friday night, ate fancy food, and drank posh wine, and paid for the luxury of leaving a meal half starved.

He hadn’t even known which fork to use first.

“You alright?”

Aaron looked up from where he had been gazing very intently at his napkin, giving Robert a forced smile. “I’m fine,” he shook his head, reaching for his wine glass with a shaky hand, knocking the last of it back.

His head felt funny, the result of too much wine and not enough food.

“You’ve barely said a word all evening, Aaron.”

“I just - this really isn’t my thing,” Aaron admitted, deciding he might as well be honest. “I’m starving, Robert.”

Robert couldn’t help but crack a smile. “They’re a bit stingy with the food here, aren’t they?” he agreed, looking around. “We haven’t ordered dessert yet, let me just pay the bill and we can go.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron gave him a grateful look. “I know you went to a lot of trouble to sort a table for us.”

“I’m sure,” Robert confirmed, signalling for the waiter.

Aaron sat, gripping tightly to the edge of his chair like a child, as he waited for Robert to pay the bill, delighted at the prospect of getting out of the stuffy restaurant. It really, really wasn’t his scene.

“Come on then,” Robert grinned, leading Aaron to the door of the restaurant. “I think  saw a McDonalds around the corner.”

And that’s exactly how they ended up sitting in McDonald’s, eating greasy chips in their suits, having an argument over which milkshake flavour was best.

(It was the best date Aaron had ever been on, if he was honest.)

“What time is it?” Robert asked, gesturing at Aaron’s phone.

“Just gone quarter to twelve, why?”

“Are we far from the Eiffel Tower?” Robert inquired, cleaning the worst of the salt from his hands with a napkin, draining the last of his milkshake. Vanilla, because he was the most boring man alive.

Aaron shook his head. “It’s like five minutes away on the Metro,” he said. He knew Paris like the back of his hand these days, the result of too many nights spent wandering around aimlessly, nowhere to go, no one to be with.

“Can we go?”

Aaron nodded, grabbing his hand drunk milkshake before Robert tugged him out of the busy McDonalds, and toward the Metro station. “Why are we in such a rush?” he complained, actually full now after he’d scoffed a large Big Mac meal for himself, and half Robert’s chips.

“I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower at midnight!” Robert exclaimed, practically shoving Aaron down the steps to the platform.

Aaron pulled a face. “Really, thats what you’re excited about?”

Robert looked genuinely offended that Aaron wasn’t excited. “It’s the Eiffel Tower, at midnight. Why wouldn’t I be excited?”

“It’s just - it’s a proper cliche, innit?” Aaron shrugged, still slurping at his milkshake at they stepped onto the train. “It’s what all the tourists do.”

“Yeah, and theres a reason they do it, it’s  _magical_ ,” Robert rolled his eyes, holding tightly to Aaron in an attempt to hold them both steady in the moving carriage, losing his balance slightly as it turned a particularly sharp corner.

“You’re such a soft lad.”

“And you’re the one sleeping with me, so you clearly like it,” Robert stuck his tongue out at him, glancing at the overhead map. “This is our stop, right?”

“Right,” Aaron deadpanned.

“Oh come on, can you pretend to at least look a little bit excited?” Robert rolled his eyes. “Indulge me this once.”

It’s not as though Aaron wasn’t going to indulge him, the warm hand on his back the perfect way of getting him to do just about anything, Aaron pliant and easy under Robert’s touch.

It should have scared him, really, the hold Robert had over him, how much Aaron wanted to make Robert happy, see him smile, even after such a short time together, but it didn’t.

It felt right, somehow.

Aaron dumped his now empty milkshake into the closest bin, letting Robert take hold of his hand as they strolled along the Champs de Mar, toward the Eiffel Tower. The park was incredibly busy, full of tourists all waiting for the spectacle that was midnight in Paris.

They made it just in time, actually, only a few seconds to spare before the tower came to life, lighting up golden, the city shining around them. Robert tugged him close, putting his hands on Aaron's waist, his chin digging into Aaron's suit jacket, nestled in the space between his neck, and his shoulder. Aaron let himself melt back into Robert's embrace, revel in the feeling of the other man being so close.

(Close enough that Aaron could smell his cologne, a woody sort of scent that set his heart racing.) 

“Paris,” Robert whispered in his ear, holding him close. “Is the only place anyone should ever try and fall in love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Have you ever been in love?” April inquired matter of factly.

Aaron wasn’t sure how he ended up being the only Dingle in the village who was around to help babysit Marlon’s daughter, but apparently he was, so he'd ended up spending his Tuesday morning in the backroom of the Woolpack with April, helming her colour, and listening to her incessant chatter.

“Why do you want to know?”

April shrugged. “My daddy is in love with Carly, and Paddy is in love with Rhona. I wanted to know if you were, too.”

“I was,” Aaron said.  _I am_.

“Was he nice?”

Nice.

Aaron wasn’t so sure nice was the best description of Robert, the most accurate. “He was brilliant,” he said quietly, thinking of how smart, and hilarious, and utterly brilliant Robert really was.

“Did he break your heart?”

Aaron could have laughed. April really was wise beyond her years, wasn’t she? Either that, or she listened in to too many adult conversations.

“Yeah,” Aaron admitted, unable to hide the sadness from his voice. “He broke my heart.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron didn’t much liking waking up to an empty bed, if he was honest. He’d never admit it to Robert, never give him the ammo to call him a soft lad (that was Aaron’s move, thank you very much), but he did hate waking up alone, without Robert’s arms around him, or Robert tucked under his chin.

It was funny, really, how quickly things were becoming routine for them.

Stretching out, Aaron shoved the thick duvet away, reaching for a discarded pair of boxers. He wasn’t exactly used to wandering around Robert’s flat naked yet, if he was honest.

Squinting at the clock, Aaron realised it was only 3am, and not morning, like he’d expected. Robert was usually the heavier sleeper of the two, never rising before he had to in the mornings.

Stifling a yawn, Aaron padded out into the living room, Robert on the phone.

_It was a little late, for a business phonecall, wasn’t it?_

“Chrissie, come on, don't be like this,” Robert was standing with his back to Aaron, not having noticed his presence. Maybe he shouldn’t be listening in, but Aaron couldn’t help but be curious about who was calling Robert at 3am.

Who was Chrissie?

“You know I love you, but this is important, I have to make sure this office is set up right,” Robert said. “I’ll be home soon, and we can put it behind us, yeah? Go back to normal.”

Go back to normal? He’ll be home soon?

Aaron was panicking, now, anger and upset rising in his chest as he put two and two together.

“Okay,” Robert’s voice was softer now. “I love you too, Mrs Sugden.”

 _Mrs Sugden_.

Aaron didn’t know two simple words could shatter his heart, but they did. “Mrs Sugden?” he practically spat, Robert spinning around as he heard Aaron speak. 

“Aaron, it’s not what you think,” Robert was pleading with him instantly, guilt written all over his face.

Like it wasn’t obvious enough already.

“You’re married,” Aaron shook his head, heading back toward the bedroom. “You lied to me, Robert!”

“I - yes, okay, I lied, but it’s not like we’re in love or anything, Aaron, you’ve got to believe me -“

“ _I love you too Mrs Sugden_.” Aaron hated how tears welled up in his eyes as he scrambled for his clothes, half certain he’d put his jumper backwards in his haste to get dressed. He just needed to get out of the flat, he needed to get away from Robert.

“Aaron please, just give me five minutes to explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” Aaron shook his head, shoving his feet into his boots. ‘You’re married, and this - us - it was all one big joke to you, wasn’t it? Well, jokes on me, for ever believing a word you said.”

Without waiting for a response, Aaron stormed out of the bedroom, and out of the flat, distantly aware of Robert yelling at him to come back.

Aaron wasn’t going to let anyone, no matter how gorgeous, take him for a mug.

He refused to let himself cry as he got into the elevator, heading out into the dark Paris evening, the city still busy, even now, at 3am.

Aaron didn’t let himself cry as he bundled himself into a taxi, not trusting himself to manage the walk home, or remember what stop to get off at on the night bus.

Aaron didn’t let himself cry until he was standing at his apartment door, and realised he’d forgotten his keys, the overly full set (complete with a tacky keyring Eva had bought him when she’d been on holiday in Ibiza over the summer) sitting on Robert’s kitchen counter where he’d left them earlier that evening, Robert snogging him senseless as he arrived to the flat, takeaway in hand.

He’d been so  _happy_  earlier, practically floating on cloud nine, and now?

Now he was alone again, and all because he'd fallen too hard, too fast, and for the wrong person.

It took him a few minutes to rouse Eva from sleep, his roommate giving him a hugely concerned look as she took in his tearstained cheeks, his frazzled appearance.

He didn’t really have it in him to explain, either - just let him fall apart in Eva’s arms, his friend holding him close as he sobbed his heart out.

(Eva always knew what to do, when it came to heartbreak. He’d witnessed it a thousand times over with their other friends, all of them coming to Eva for the post breakup treatment, but he’d never experienced it for himself.)

(Until now.)

(Listening to his roommate describe - in  _very_  colourful French - exactly how she was going to tear Robert limb from limb for daring to hurt her Aaron helped him begin to feel a little better, at least.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron managed to go two days without seeing Robert, until the man in question turned up at his workplace, Aaron’s keys in hand.

“I don’t want to see you,” he shook his head, focusing on the glasses he was cleaning. It was a slow enough night, so it’s not as though he had a steady queue of customers to use as an excuse to not talk to Robert.

“Please, Aaron,” there was something in Robert’s voice that made him want to pay attention, a sort of desperation he’d never heard before. “Just, give me five minutes to explain myself.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder, noting that Henri was running things rather smoothly on his own. “Five minutes, and then I have to get back to work,” he said, manoeuvring his way out from behind the bar.

He led Robert outside into the chilly night air, folding his arms across his chest, giving Robert an expectant look. “I’d start talking, if I were you,” he said, as Robert stayed uncomfortably silent. “Five minutes isn’t a very long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert began, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you, you deserve that much.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m married,” Robert said, as though confirmation was actually needed. “I met Chrissie when I was twenty one. I’d been moved out of home for nearly two years at that point, and I didn’t have anyone - no friends, no family, and then I met her. Her father offered me a job in his company, and I fell for Chrissie.”

“I don’t need to hear about your great love story, Robert,” Aaron bit back sarcastically.

“Good thing that’s not what this is,” Robert retorted. “I moved to Boston with them, when I was twenty two. We were married by time I was twenty four, and I was a director at the company.”

“And?”

“Then I fell out of love, Aaron,” Robert said. “I took her father up on the offer of setting up the Paris offices because it was an excuse to be away from her for an entire year.”

“Why haven’t you left her then?” Aaron demanded. “Why does she still think you’re madly in love with her?”

“I’m going to leave her,” Robert reassured. “I just - I need to make sure I get what I’m owed, first.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You what?”

“I built their company up from the ground,” Robert was defensive now, passionate in a way that was taking Aaron by surprise. He’d never seemed too overly enthusiastic about work before. “White Industries would be nothing without me, and I can’t just walk away from everything I have worked so hard for.”

Aaron stayed silent, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m going to leave her,” Robert repeated, a determined look on his face. “But I’m setting myself up a nest egg, first. If I just file for divorce, she’ll make sure I end up with as little as possible, and I’m not having that.”

“Couldn’t you go back to your family?” as soon as Aaron spoke, he knew he’d hit a sore spot.

“I don’t have one,” Robert said simply. “Chrissie and her family is all the family I have, however sad that sounds. My dad - he kicked me out when I was nineteen, and I haven’t been home to Emmerdale since.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “Wait, Emmerdale?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m from Emmerdale, Robert,” Aaron couldn’t hide his shock, his surprise. Of all the places in Yorkshire Robert could have been from, it just had to be Emmerdale, didn’t it?

“Wait - what?”

“I’m Chas Dingle’s son,” Aaron said. “I go by Aaron Roberts but it’s - it’s not my real name.”

(Dingle wasn’t either, but it’s not like Robert needed to know that.)

“How - how did we not make this connection before?” Robert’s jaw was practically on the floor now. “You know my family then?”

Aaron barely held back an ‘I dated your sister’, figuring that was more suited to a less serious conversation, a time when they were on better terms. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I know Vic and Andy pretty well, lived with Diane for a bit, at the pub.”

Robert all but collapsed into one of the nearby chairs, looking as though the wind had been knocked out of him. “It’s been ten years, since I was last home,” he admitted, fiddling with Aaron’s keys.

“Long time.”

“It’s why I can’t just leave her, Aaron,” Robert said. “I don’t have anything to go back to, in Emmerdale. I’d be completely on my own.”

Aaron sighed, sliding into the chair next to him. “You’ve got me, you dolt.”

“Still?” Robert gave him a hopeful look, the closest thing to puppy dog eyes Aaron had ever seen from the other man.

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.”

“I know - I know I shouldn’t have, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Aaron,” Robert leaned in closer, eyes wide, and sincere. “I just didn’t want to lose you. You - you mean too much already.”

Aaron was quiet for a second. “You’re definitely going to leave her then?”

Robert nodded furiously. “It’s just a matter of time, I swear to you. I’ll leave her once I know I’ve got some sort of career left, and then - then it’ll be just you and me.”

“Just you and me,” Aaron nodded slowly. He couldn’t quite put into words just how appealing that actually sounded, the idea of it being him, and Robert against the world.

(It was too soon for that sort of talk, too fast.)

(Aaron couldn’t bring himself to care.)

“I will never lie to you again,” Robert said solemnly.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Robert.”

“I can keep this one,” Robert shuffled closer again, taking one of Aaron’s hands in his own. “You’re the one I want to be with, Aaron. You, and no one else, you’ve got to believe me.”

“I do,” Aaron admitted, the clock striking midnight as he leaned in to brush his lips against Robert’s, kissing him softly, making up for al the days, all the kisses he’d missed. “I believe you.”

(Midnight in Paris, and Aaron was most of the way to being in love with someone who was probably just going to break his heart.)

(Still, hope sprung eternal and all that.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron knew he should just trust Robert. They’d talked about it a lot, about how it would be best if they didn’t keep in contact over the year, if they just left each other to sort out their problems, sort the things that were keeping them from being together properly, talked about how that would take a lot of trust, on both their parts.

Aaron did trust him.

He wouldn’t have told Robert all he did, wouldn’t have loved him the way he did, if he didn’t trust Robert with everything he had.

But every once in a while, Aaron would find himself on Robert’s Facebook page, staring at the photo of him and Chrissie that had been his profile picture since before they had even met, and he’d feel jealous.

However Robert felt, despite him planning on leaving Chrissie, Aaron was jealous, because Chrissie was getting to wake up next to the love of Aaron’s life every morning, and cook dinner with him, and love him, and do all the things that had become part of Aaron’s daily routine with Robert in Paris.

(The boring, absolutely mundane things had become some of the very best bits, the two of them having laughing fits while they cooked tea together, or turning a boring supermarket trip into an adventure.)

(It was the kind of love that was going to keep Aaron happy forever.)

Aaron looked at Robert’s profile picture, heart lurching as he realised it had been updated to a more recent photo of him and Chrissie. They looked good together, the kind of power couple that he and Robert would never be, Aaron always feeling a little out of place in his hoodies and jeans, next to Robert and his always neatly pressed, tailored outfits.

Robert and Chrissie looked suited to each other, more than he and Aaron ever had.

The photo had clearly been taken at some sort of business dinner, Robert dressed in a striking three piece suit, the material flattering every inch of his body, dark navy accentuating his pale features.

Chrissie was wearing what Aaron could only assume was a stupidly expensive dress, looking nothing short of model like as they stood together, Robert’s arm slung tightly around her waist.

(Aaron bet her body wasn't like his, scarred, and mutilated.)

(Robert probably preferred it.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You never ask.”

Robert looked up from whatever article he was reading on his phone, raising an eyebrow at Aaron’s comment. He looked perfectly sleep ruffled, like he’d been put together to be on the front of a magazine, rather than having just woken up. “You what?”

“About my scars, you never ask,” Aaron looked down at his own chest, the littering of faded, silvery scars, and redder, newer ones staring back up at him. In all the weeks, months now, he and Robert had been together, Robert hadn’t mentioned them once.

“Why would I?” Robert locked his phone, setting it down on his beside locker. “They’re just a part of you.”

“They’re ugly,” Aaron mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away. He’d done it to himself, he knew, but he was still allowed to hate them, hate how they’d never fully fade away, how he’d carry the physical reminders of the pain he’d once felt with him for the rest of his life.

(The pain he still felt, sometimes.)

“Hey, look at me.” Robert nudged at his side, forcing Aaron to look at him. “Nothing about you is ugly, Aaron."

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew how I got them.”

A heavy silence fell between them, Aaron unsure of what to say, how to say it.

“How about I tell you something about me, first?”

“What?”

“Whatever happened, its hard for you to talk about, right?” Robert shifted so he was sitting, facing Aaron. “I’ll talk about something thats hard for me to talk about first.”

“You don’t have to,” Aaron shook his head, not wanting to pressure Robert into anything.

“I know, but it might make it easier,” Robert said, picking at an invisible thread on the duvet cover. “Plus, its something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while time, if I’m honest.”

“Okay.”

“You’re the first person I ever came out to, properly,” Robert said. “But you’re not the first person to know I was interested in boys, as well as girls.”

Aaron couldn’t help the feeling of dread in his stomach, feeling as though he knew where this story was going. He’d heard it so many times from friends, about how a family member hadn’t been able to cope, hadn’t taken their coming out well.

He didn’t want that to have happened to Robert.

“My dad knew,” Robert said, the words looking as though they were causing him physical pain to say aloud. “We had this lad, help on the farm. I was only fifteen, only figuring these things out, you know? But I knew I liked him, so I took him up to my room one day.”

Aaron swallowed thickly, his stomach a pit of nerves as he listened to Robert speak.

“He kissed me,” Robert said, a tiny smile appearing in the corner of his mouth as he remembered. “It was a good kiss. But then - uh, my dad walked in. He wasn’t happy, obviously - Jack Sugden, having a gay son? No chance.”

Aaron reached out, linking his fingers with Roberts, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“He leathered me,” Roberts eyes welled with tears, the first time Aaron had ever seen the other man anywhere close to crying, his blue-green eyes shining. “I still remember it, like it happened yesterday - not fifteen years ago. He leathered me, sacked the lad, and he didn’t speak to me for weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron didn’t know what to say, how to make it any better for Robert. How could you possibly make it better, something like your own father  _beating_  you because you liked boys?

“Me too,” Robert nodded slowly. “I was always the disappointment to my dad. He loved Andy more, always did. Andy wanted the life my dad had always wanted for me, the farm, the wife, the kids.”

Aaron couldn’t help but think of Andy, his second wedding to Katie he’d seen so many photos of on Facebook, his two little ones, working on the farm with Moira. Andy had clearly done it by the book, did everything Jack had wanted to him to do.

“I wanted a life my dad didn’t understand, I guess,” Robert shrugged, wiping roughly at his nose. “I think thats why I took such a long time to come around to the fact I am bisexual, you know? Because a part of me just always figured my dad would never have come around to the idea.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “How sad is that? I haven’t come out before now because I’m terrified of what my dead father would think.”

“He was still your dad, no matter what happened between you,” Aaron offered. He’d heard whispers, of the great saga that was Robert Sugden, the mysterious brother who’d left ten years previous and hadn’t been back since, but Andy was never up for talking about him, and Victoria didn’t really remember much of him, she’d only been a kid when he left.

Robert shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter these days anyway, does it? Because I have you.”

“And I have you,” Aaron returned, leaning in to kiss Robert softly. He had to admit, he felt a little better about the idea of sharing why he had so many scars with Robert now, felt a little more at ease.

Still, it was never an easy conversation.

Aaron let their kiss go on for a few minutes before he pulled away, studying Robert’s face carefully. “I did this to myself,” he admitted, gesturing vaguely at his chest. “You probably guessed that though.”

Robert didn’t say anything, just sat, and waited for Aaron to continue.

“My head’s been a bit messed up, for a long time,” Aaron continued, taking a deep breath. “I had a boyfriend, Jackson. He - he was paralysed, in an accident, and I helped him commit suicide. I didn’t handle it very well, so I stared hurting myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert echoed Aaron’s earlier words.

“So am I,” Aaron hummed, thinking of Jackson, of all the years the other man deserved to have gotten. They probably still wouldn’t be together, first loves and all that, but he rather liked the idea of Jackson having gotten his own happy ending, rather than the one he got.

“Do you feel like hurting yourself sometimes still?” Robert asked, genuinely curious - or concerned.

Maybe both, Aaron realised, definitely both.

“Sometimes,” Aaron admitted, figuring there was no use in lying to Robert, not now, not when they were both putting their hearts on display, and baring all to each other. “But I’m happier now.”

Robert couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You are?”

Aaron laughed. “‘M not going to stroke your ego, Robert,” he shoved at his boyfriend, Robert ignoring his jab entirely, pulling Aaron in close to his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of Aaron’s shoulder.

“Come talk to me, if you ever feel like that again,” Robert murmured, his breath hot against Aaron’s bare skin.

“I will,” Aaron replied, absently playing with the hair at the back of Robert’s neck, fingers running through the silky strands. “I promise, I will.”

He wasn’t lying, this time.

(Not like all the other promises to talk he’d made.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron hadn’t actually done it, hurt himself. Anyone else might have argued the opposite, if they’d seen him, lighter in hand, standing on the little footbridge, but he honestly hadn’t.

He’d thought about it.

God, had he thought about it.

Aaron remembered how it used to feel, the relief he used to feel when he’d press a blade into his skin, how it would always make him feel better, how it would distract from the pain he was feeling inside.

He wanted that relief now, if he was honest.

Aaron’s head was a mess. That was the only way to actually describe it, his head was a mess. Aaron felt like he was being torn in every which way, the police constantly on one end of the phone, asking him questions and trying to piece together a case against his father, his mum and Paddy constantly fretting on the other end, trying to make sure he was okay, he was happy, and all the while, all Aaron wanted was Robert.

It was sad, really, how absolutely lovesick he was, but Aaron knew he’d feel like this until Robert was his again.

He’d feel better, if Robert was here.

Robert always knew how to make him feel better, how to make him forget all the parts of himself that were damaged, and broken, and bruised.

Aaron had never felt like he was broken, when he was with Robert.

(He felt broken now, the truth of what his father had done out now, everyone giving him that same pitying look, as though all they were thinking was ‘poor Aaron Dingle, abused by his dad, abandoned by his mum, is it any wonder he’s as messed up as he is?’)

Sighing, Aaron pocketed the lighter, checking the time on his phone.

Maybe taking up smoking again would help.

(Maybe it was just another way to self harm, sure, but it was better than this, better than standing on a bridge, lighter in hand, and wondering if hurting himself was the answer.)

(His messed up, damaged brain would always think it was.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron had been dreading Christmas.

Robert had to go back to Boston, back to his wife, and Aaron was facing down the barrel of a lonely Christmas in his and Eva’s flat.

(He couldn’t exactly go home, could he?)

So it was a major surprise when Robert turned up at his door, suitcase in hand, a grin on his face. “What - you’re supposed to be halfway to Boston now,” he couldn’t hide his confusion.

“My flight got cancelled,” Robert said delightedly. “Severe storm hitting Boston. I told Chrissie I’d just stay here for Christmas, I have to be back for meetings next week anyway.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“No,” Robert grinned, clearly not bothered in the slightest. He barged his way into Aaron’s flat, pressing a sloppy kiss to Aaron’s lips. “But it means I get to spend Christmas with you, so I don’t care.”

“Really?” Aaron couldn’t hide his excitement, the absolute joy that was coursing through his veins at the prospect of getting to spend Christmas with Robert.

_Just me and you._

Robert nodded, still holding Aaron by the waist. “It’s going to be a taste of what the rest of our lives are going to be like.”

“I love you,” Aaron blurted, the words coming out far easier than he’d expected them too. He’d wanted to say it for a while, wanted to tell Robert how he felt for weeks now, but he hadn’t found the courage to, despite it all.

“I love you,” Robert echoed, his grin practically splitting his face in two. “God, I love you.”

Aaron didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t much care for the idea of talking some more, not when he had Robert all to himself.

Robert’s lips all to himself.

Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day as the clocked ticked over to midnight, and Aaron knew in that moment that all he was ever going to want, the only place he was ever going to want to be, was in Paris, in love, and with Robert.

(They rang in the new year just like that, holed up in Aaron’s flat, kissing and drinking cheap wine, and toasting to the future they promised they would have together.)

 

 

 

(Until Chrissie arrived.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was just out of the shower, when he’d heard the buzz of the front doorbell. He just assumed it was a delivery for Robert, his boyfriend close to addicted to online shopping, deliveries arriving on a daily basis sometimes, depending on what new thing he’d found to waste his money on.

So he hadn’t rushed, not until Robert had arrived in the bedroom, panicking.

“It’s Chrissie,” he said, wild eyed. “Chrissie is here.”

“What -  _why_?”

Robert shook his head, looking positively terrified. “She - she must have wanted to surprise me, because I didn’t go back to Boston for Christmas,” he said, looking around the room, as though he was just going to get a sign, a way to hide Aaron away.

“Have I got enough time to leave?”

Robert shook his head. “No, she’s on her way up now,” a familiar ‘I have a plan’ look appeared on Robert’s face, and he grinned delightedly. “Put on some of my running gear.”

“ _What_?” Aaron couldn’t help but look at him as though he’d completely lost it.

“We can pretend we’re running buddies, or whatever,” Robert said. “She won’t be suspicious of that, and then - then I can see you, while she’s here.”

Before Aaron really had a chance to argue exactly why he didn’t want to do that, why he didn’t want to have to be Robert’s  _mate_  while his wife had come to visit, Robert was thrusting a bundle of sports gear at him, getting dressed in his own pair of shorts and leggings.

 _At least Robert’s sex hair could pass for post workout sweaty_ , Aaron thought, shoving his feet into his sneakers just as there was a knock on the front door. Making sure he had his wallet and keys, Aaron jogged into the living room, busying himself at the sink, filling at glass of water.

“Robert, darling, hi.” Aaron’s stomach turned as he listened to Chrissie speak, a sort of neutral, posh accent that was the result of oh so many years at private school feeling like an assault, a reminder of the lifestyle Chrissie offered Robert.

“Chris, this is - this is such a surprise!”

“Good,” Chrissie replied. “I missed you so much over Christmas, I decided to take a week off when Lucky went back to school, come and visit.”

“You’re too good to me,” Robert had easily slipped back into his smarmy, flirty persona again, all traces of shock gone from his voice.

Aaron wanted to  _run,_ run and hide.

“Why are you all dressed in your running gear, hm? It’s freezing out!”

“I’ve got a mate, Aaron - we go running together,” Robert explained, their voices getting closer now, Aaron’s stomach in knots. “You came just in time, actually, we’re just back.”

“He’s here? Oh, I’m just off a  _flight_ , I look a state -“

“You look beautiful, Chris,” Robert murmured softly, the pause in conversation a very obvious kiss.

They rounded the corner of the kitchen, and Aaron gave an awkward wave. “Hiya,” he greeted, hoping Chrissie would just put the gruffness of his voice down to the winter cold, and not down to the fact he was barely holding back tears.

“Aaron, so good to meet you,” Chrissie was beautiful. Robert’s perfect match, really - her hair was near perfectly styled, considering she’d just gotten off a flight from Boston, and she was wearing an expensive looking coat, a designer handbag he vaguely recognised from the symbol, having passed it a thousand times on the Champs Elyseé, draped over her elbow, Robert holding tightly to the handle of a matching suitcase.

Beautiful, and glamorous, and practically dripping with the wealth Robert wore so well himself. Aaron bet Chrissie wouldn’t feel uncomfortable in the kind of fancy restaurants Robert had tried to take him too at the start of their relationship - she’d probably relish it, love the glitz and the glamour of it all.

“Chrissie,” Aaron forced a smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Chrissie laughed, kind and genuine in her words in a way that made Aaron feel sick to his stomach. She seemed  _nice_ , and here he was, shagging her husband, not a care in the world.

“Of course, you’ve got yourself a good one in Robert - never shuts up about ya,” Aaron lied, setting his glass down on the kitchen counter. “I’d best get off, I’ve got work in a couple of hours.”

“Do say you’ll have dinner with us while I’m here,” Chrissie put a neatly manicured hand on his arm, stopping him from rushing away. “I’d love to meet some of Robert’s friends here in Paris.”

Aaron forced another smile. “Sure,” he figured simple was the best response, not wanting to agree to much at all. “See you later, mate,” he directed at Robert, slapping the other man’s back a little more forcefully than necessary, though to Chrissie he assumed it just looked like a bit of friendly banter.

What mates did, of course.

Aaron leaned his head back against the cool interior wall of the elevator in Robert’s apartment as it started its descent, heart still racing. He could have told her, there and then.

He could have sat Chrissie down, and told her everything - about how he’d spent nearly every night since August in her husband’s bed, how he’d only heard about her when Robert spoke about leaving her.

He had all the power, didn’t he?

He could have ruined it all for Robert.

(Still could.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course Chrissie insisted on the dinner. Aaron had hoped she’d just forget, that Robert would keep her occupied enough so that they wouldn’t have time for the cosy dinner she was insisting on, but no.

Apparently, the universe really had it out for him, so he found himself in Robert’s apartment, pretending as though it hadn’t become his home too, Chrissie fussing around the kitchen, glass of wine in hand as she directed Robert to do this, and that.

Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Eva had suggested she come, for moral support, but however much Aaron loved his roommate, he didn’t entirely trust her to not get a little too talkative when she had a couple of glasses of wine in her.

Eva knew it all, and that was a  _risk_.

So he was here alone, sitting at the glass dining table he and Robert barely ever used, preferring to curl up on the couch and eat there instead, a movie playing in the background, pretending as though he wasn’t losing it.

Chrissie was all over Robert.

Or maybe she wasn’t, she was just being  _normal,_ but Aaron couldn’t handle seeing her kissing Robert, putting her hands on his waist as he cooked, serving up something for dessert.

“I’m going to duck out for a cig,” Aaron said, tapping the pocket of his trousers nervously. He didn't smoke much, not anymore, but he’d gone and bought a packet the day Chrissie arrived.

 _For his nerves_ , his mum would quip sarcastically, before smacking him around the back of the head, and telling him he needed to quit.

Aaron didn’t wait for a response, heading out onto the little balcony of Robert’s flat. He’d sat out there a dozen or more times, soaking up the last of the autumn sunshine, wrapped up in blankets as winter started to roll in, the two of them enjoying the dusky oranges and pinks of the Paris sunset, beers in hand.

Every inch of Robert’s flat was painted with memories of  _them_ , it was unbearable.

“I thought you only smoked when you were drunk.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder to see Robert had joined him, glass of wine in hand. “What’s it to you?” he replied, turning back to the lighter he was flicking on and off, the flames far too inviting.

“Don’t be like this, Aaron.”

“Like what?  _Angry_?” Aaron didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to risk Chrissie seeing the hurt, the pain etched on every inch of his face. He knew he was the one who was the bit on the side, the affair, but it still felt as though Chrissie was encroaching on their space, on his and Robert’s life together.

“She’ll be gone by the end of the week,” Robert said, leaning on the low wall next to Aaron. “And then -“

“If you say it’ll be just you and me, I’ll smack ya one,” Aaron interrupted, shaking his head. They were words that were supposed to mean something, and he couldn’t hear them when Robert’s wife was standing ten feet away. “It’s all a joke to you, isn’t it? How I feel, how much I want you.”

“No,” Robert shook his head, defensive. “No, Aaron - you are everything to me. Everything.”

“Then why haven't you told her?”

“I told you, I can’t risk losing the business, Aaron,” Robert said. “I’ve spent years, building it up, and if I tell her now, I lose it all. She’ll clean me out.”

“And is money the only thing that matters, yeah?”

Robert’s face fell. “You know it’s not,” he inched a little closer, expression pleading. “Aaron, if I just wait it out a little, I had make sure I get the Paris headquarters for myself. I’ll be able to make sure we can have a good life here, you and me.”

Aaron had heard this a thousand times over. That was Robert’s reasoning, for not leaving Chrissie now - if he was clever enough, he could make sure he got to run the Paris offices, even after the divorce, and they’d be set for life. They might even be able to buy an apartment of their own, in Paris.

It sounded good. It had all sounded good, before Chrissie arrived - before she arrived, Chrissie was this distant concept, a person who absolutely existed in Robert’s life, but was never going to be something, or someone, Aaron had to deal with.

Until now.

“I could tell her, you know.” Aaron said, twisting the lighter between his fingers. “I could walk back in there right now, and I could tell her all about how I’ve been shagging her husband for months now.”

“Please, Aaron.”

“Please what? Please help you keep up all your lies?” Aaron bit back, furious now. “It’s killing me Robert, to just sit here, and watch you be all loved up with your wife, when I want that to be me.”

“It will be you,” Robert said, voice low. He had that same look he always got on his face when he wanted Aaron to believe him, eyes wide, and heart on his sleeve in a way Robert never really acted. “You give me a little more time, and it’ll be you. This - this flat, a new flat, whatever. It’ll be ours. It’ll be you and me in that kitchen, making dinner, making plans.”

“Can you really promise me that, what with everything she can give you? The money, the power,” Aaron couldn’t help but voice his concerns, his worries. He had been thinking about it constantly, since Chrissie arrived, and he had to ask.

He had to know.

“Yes.” Robert sounded so sure of himself. “Yes, I can promise you that Aaron. I would promise you anything, if it meant you were happy.”

Aaron was quiet for a second. “I thought - I thought if I just walked in there and told her, you wouldn’t be able to do anything but chose me. How sad is that? I thought maybe I could force you to want me the most.”

“I do want you the most.”

Aaron sighed, shoving his lighter into his pocket. “Then why are you still in there with her, and not coming home with me?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron watched as the date changed from the 4th of January, to the 5th, eyes welling with tears as he realised what day it was.

Twenty four.

He’d had high hopes, for his birthday this year. He’d imagined spending it with Robert, loved up on a birthday for the first time in two long. He’d imagined how Robert would wake him up with a kiss, and how they’d spend the morning in bed, and do all the cliche things you were supposed to do when you were in love on your birthday.

Instead? He was alone, curled up in a cold, empty bed, and wishing it was any day in the year except his birthday.

Tomorrow, Eva would wake him up with her usual routine of a very loud, very off key rendition of happy birthday, and they’d eat cake for breakfast, and he’d go to work, and Henri would be determined to get him completely, utterly wasted, and he’d plaster a smile on his face and pretend like he wasn’t just wishing the day away.

But he didn’t have to pretend right now, did he?

He could curl up in bed, and cry, and no one could judge him for it now.

So that’s exactly what he did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron avoided Robert as much as he could, even after he knew Chrissie had gone back to Boston. The idea of being around Robert, being near him, after he’d spent a week all loved up with his wife, well - it wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world, if he was being entirely honest.

Maybe if he just distanced himself now, it’d be easier.

Robert on the other hand, had other plans.

It was late, when the knock on the door came. Aaron had planned to just veg out on the couch for the evening, and watch some mindless action movie on Netflix, Eva gone home to her family for the weekend.

(She wanted him to come too, but Aaron was grateful for the peace, if he was honest.)

(Maybe he’d take a walk again later.)

Shuffling across the apartment in his thick socks and tracksuit bottoms, Aaron unlocked the door to find Robert standing on his doorstep, takeaway bag in hand. “I’m not in the mood, Robert,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, hoping Robert would get the message.

“I need to see you,” Robert said simply. No apologies, no  _nothing_.

“I don’t want to see you,” Aaron shook his head, attempting to shut the door on Robert.

“Please, Aaron.”

Maybe it made him a weak person, but there was something in Robert’s voice he just couldn’t say no to. “Fine,” he sighed, stepping back so Robert could walk into the apartment.

“I brought Chinese,” Robert said, waving the bag around uselessly. “I thought we could talk.”

“Whats left to talk about, Robert? You’ve made your choice, you’re not leaving Chrissie,” Aaron plonked himself down on the couch, deciding he had no interest in being a good host. Robert had been here before, he knew where the plates and cutlery were.

Robert didn’t reply for a few minutes, busying himself with the food. He didn’t speak at all again, not until he was sitting down next to Aaron on the couch, holding out a plate of takeaway.

“Chrissie wants us to go to marriage counselling, when I’m back in Boston,” Robert said matter of factly, tucking into his curry. He looked tired, Aaron noted, dark circles under his eyes an exhausted looking shade of purple.

“What?”

“We’ve been fighting all week,” Robert admitted, not quite looking at Aaron. “I think maybe she thought putting some distance between us for a few months would help matters, make us miss each other, but we don’t fit together like we used to.”

“Because of me?”

“Because of a lot of things,” Robert said. “I told you before, I married her when I was really young - I didn’t really even know what I wanted,  _who_  I wanted. For a while, it was fine, you know? We were happy, and it worked, but the cracks started showing last year.”

“What kind of cracks?” Aaron couldn’t help but be interested now, slowly thawing. If Robert was being honest with him, the least he owed the other man was a listening ear.

(And he had brought Chinese.)

“I think sometimes that we’re just too alike,” Robert admitted. “We fight over the stupidest things. But it’s not like you and me, you know? We argue, but we always make up. If me and Chrissie argue, it turns into her giving me the silent treatment for weeks, or me…..”

“You what?” Aaron urged.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been unfaithful to her.” Robert said quietly, suddenly very interested in the chipped edge of his plate. “I had an affair, a few years ago.”

“With who?”

“My secretary,” Robert winced. “Cliche, I know. Chrissie, she found out, of course she did, I was doing it right under her nose at the company, but she put it down to me just being afraid of commitment. We’d only been married a year, so when she said it was nerves, I went along with it.”

“But it wasn’t nerves?”

Robert shook his head. “It was boredom, if I’m honest,” he said. “A year in to marriage, and I was craving something new already.”

“Have you ever gotten bored of me?” Aaron asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“No. That’s why you’re different,” Robert set his plate down on the coffee table. “With you - everything’s different. You’ve had my attention since day one, Aaron, and every day with you, it’s exciting, and I look forward to spending time with you.”

“Me too.”

“Can you stick with me for a little longer?” Robert pleaded. “Just, give me the time I need to get everything in order, and then I promise it’s just going to be you, and me, and the rest of our lives.”

“Promise?” Aaron winced at how childlike he sounded, how much he needed the reassurance from Robert. He set his plate down on the coffee table next to Robert’s, wanting all his focus to be on his boyfriend now.

“With everything I have.” Robert confirmed, running a hand through the hair at the back of Aaron’s neck, long fingers tracing patterns on Aaron’s skin.

Aaron nodded, melting into Robert’s touch as the other man pressed a kiss to his forehead, Robert’s lips warm against his skin. “I can stick with you then.”

Robert stayed.

Robert stayed the entire weekend, actually, the two of them curled up in Aaron’s tiny room, a tangle of arms and legs.

 _This was what it was going to be like_ , Aaron thought to himself, wrapping an arm around Robert’s waist even tighter, burying his face in the other mans neck.  _This was what the rest of his life was going to be like_.

(He couldn’t wait.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loving Robert was easy, when they’d get it right.

It felt as easy as breathing sometimes, if Aaron was being completely honest. He’d never felt like this before, not about anyone. He’d been in love, of course, god had he been in love, and he’d had his heart broken to the pint where he wondered if it was even fixable, but this, loving Robert?

It was like nothing he’d ever known.

“I still don’t get why you love this so much,” Aaron commented, tugging his jacket closer around him. Winter was finally turning to spring, the icy cold that had taken a hold of Paris since November finally easing, bringing rainy days, and more sunshine. The evenings were still cold though, and it was close to midnight now, the two of them sat under the Eiffel Tower.

Robert had insisted on a picnic. He’d packed a backpack of crisps, and posh sandwiches (from Marks and Spencer, because Robert was nothing if not a Brit who refused to integrate into the French way of life, holding onto his home comforts like a comfort blanket) and stuck in a blanket and a few bottles of wine, determined to make a night out of the first nice evening the city had had in weeks, weather wise.

“It’s magical,” Robert rolled his eyes, polishing off the last of his bag of crisps. “It’s Paris, at midnight.”

“We could be enjoying Paris, at midnight, in bed.”

“But then we wouldn’t have a view like this,” Robert gestured, the Eiffel Tower a looming structure in front of them. It was impressive, Aaron could admit that much, but there was only so many times it was exciting to watch it light up at midnight.

“Just take a video of it, and watch it in bed,” Aaron retorted, leaning back on his elbows. He was bone tired, having just come off seven straight days in work, covering Henri’s sick leave.

“It’s all about the atmosphere though,” Robert countered, shifting so he was leaning over Aaron, eyes bright against the backdrop of the Parisian night sky. He was so beautiful, Aaron noted, all blond hair and freckles, the kind of person he’d never dreamed would so much as look twice at him.

“And what’s so good about the atmosphere here?”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it? I told you before, Paris is the only place anyone should ever fall in love,” Robert said. “Doesn’t it feel special? You and me, in the most romantic city in the world - watching the Eiffel Tower at midnight. It’s like something out of a movie!”

“It’s not though.”

“No, it’s better than that,” Robert shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “It’s real life.”

Aaron shook his head at Robert’s dramatic declarations, shifting over on the blanket as Robert leaned back too, the two of them shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the last few minutes to tick by until midnight.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Robert asked.

Aaron gave a slight shrug. “I didn’t used to,” he admitted, thinking of all those times in his life he’d been so determined to end it, so convinced he didn’t want to see out another day, another week, another month.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Me neither,” Robert hummed his agreement. “I used to be terrified of it, the idea of the future, spending the rest of my life in one place - with one person.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Robert beamed at him, illuminated by the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower as it came to life. “Now I can see myself sitting right here, in ten years time, still in love with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It had been a long time since Aaron had come to Bar West. He’d been back in Emmerdale for close to eight months now, and this was the first time he’d ventured to the bar.

It had been his safe place, once, the one place he could go, and feel like he could be himself. He’d come to really love the bar, a far cry from those first few visits where he’d felt guilty, and dirty, and ashamed of himself.

No, Bar West was safe, it always had been.

He just didn’t feel much like going on the pull, if he was honest. Aaron was sitting at one of the back tables, nursing a lukewarm pint, looking around the bar. It was heaving with people, everyone knocking back drinks, and laughing, and finding someone to go home with.

He’d thought maybe he’d enjoy the distraction, that he’d want to sleep with a stranger, get it out of his system.

Aaron hadn't been with anyone since Robert, and there would always have to be a first, wouldn’t there? He should really just bite the bullet, and do it, sleep with someone.

It’s not like he was hard up, either, Aaron had already had someone offer to buy him a drink.

But he couldn’t say yes.

The date was flashing like neon at the forefront of his mind.

_April 22nd._

It was Robert’s 31st birthday, and all Aaron wanted, was to be spending it with the other man. His birthday the previous year had been so wonderful, one of the best weekends of Aaron’s life, if he was honest, and he’d give anything to relive it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Aaron pulled out his phone, fingers quickly tapping out a message to Robert.

_Happy birthday x_

His heart was racing, wondering if he’d done the right thing by texting Robert, when the other mans reply buzzed through.

_Wish it was just you, and me, and the Amalfi coast again x_

Aaron felt a comfortable warmth spread through his body as he remembered the four days they’d spent in Italy together, the holiday the perfect celebration of Robert’s thirtieth birthday.

The perfect weekend in general, Aaron thought to himself, almost able to remember the way the sun had felt on his skin, how they’d drank, and kissed, and fallen even more in love, the Italian coast as the backdrop to the romance movie their lives together had become.

(Aaron hoped they could do it again next year, drive the coast, stay at a beautiful hotel, just him and Robert.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Robert’s thirtieth birthday.

Aaron couldn’t help but marvel at the fact he was the one who was getting to spend it with him, he was the one who was getting to spoil Robert, make him feel special. If a part of him was resentful for the fact he didn’t get this from Robert on his birthday, well - that could be his little secret.

Aaron stuck his head around the doorway of Robert’s room ( _our_  room, Aaron), grateful the other man was still asleep. He set the mug of coffee he’d made for Robert down on his beside locker, easing himself into bed next to him again.

Aaron couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Robert’s lips. They’d gotten to the point in their relationship where neither of them much cared about morning breath, about anything like that really.

It felt safe, and secure, and  _normal_.

“Happy birthday,” Aaron murmured, Robert smiling sleepily at him as he stretched, easing himself into the morning.

“It’s always a happy day if I get to wake up next to you.”

“Soft lad,” Aaron said affectionately, brushing a hand through Robert’s already messy hair. “What do you want to do today?”

Robert eased himself into a sitting position, grinning widely as he noticed the coffee. “Cheers,” he murmured, taking a sip of the steaming liquid before he went any further. “I was hoping not to leave this bed all morning, if I’m honest.”

Aaron laughed, absently stroking a thumb across the bare skin of Robert’s thigh, feeling the rough hair under his fingertips. “That could be arranged,” he nodded, not exactly too upset at the prospect of spending an entire morning in bed with Robert.

(Over him, under him, what did it matter when he got to be with  _Robert Sugden_?)

“But then we’ve got a flight to catch.”

“You what?”

“I wanted to make up for not being there for you on your birthday,” Robert admitted, rooting in his bedside locker for something. “You and me, four nights, a luxury hotel on the Amalfi Coast.”

Aaron took the envelope from him, eyes wide. “Are you serious?” he couldn't hide his excitement as he opened the booking confirmation, the hotel name emblazoned across the top.

It looked  _gorgeous_.

“I wanted to do something special for you.”

“What about you?”

Robert laughed. “Aaron, if you don’t think four days in Italy isn’t a special way of me celebrating my birthday, you need your head checked,” he shook his head, taking the booking confirmation from Aaron. “Idiot.”

“How are you real?” Aaron heard himself saying, wonder evident in his voice.

“I ask myself the same thing about you every day,” Robert admitted, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to Aaron’s lips. “Now are we going to talk, or are we going to make the most of the next few hours before we need to pack?”

Aaron had Robert pinned down by the waist before the other man could even try and push for an answer.

(Like there was any answer to that question except ‘get your kit off’ anyway.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Italy was beautiful. It was the sort of holiday Aaron had never imagined himself going on, all blue skies and endless, long days of relaxing, drinking ridiculous cocktails by the beach, Robert engrossed in a book next to him.

He’d been to Ibiza, once, with his mates. It had been a typical lads holiday, nothing but drunken nights out and partying (and girls, Aaron remembered with a grimace, memories of how he’d been s adamant to prove his straightness coming flooding back as he remembered the cheap tequila shots, and the girl he’d felt up in a nightclub.)

Yet, here he was, a few short years later, sitting on a beach with his  _boyfriend_. Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to this, normality with Robert, but he could certainly imagine holidays like his every summer, the two of them getting away to the coast, soaking up the sun for a week at a time, unwinding, relaxing.

It sounded like something Aaron could enjoy.

It helped that the sunny weather suited Robert down to the ground, too. Robert’s skin had turned a golden colour already, two days into their already, a new smattering of freckles developing across his left shoulder.

(He’d been sure to map every single new freckle with his tongue that morning.)

“What are you staring at?”

Aaron shook himself from his daze, looking across to Robert. He was sitting upright on his sun lounger now, place marked in his book, the novel shoved back into the backpack they’d brought down to the sand with them.

Robert’s sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, sleek black frames that made him look even more gorgeous, Robert suiting the lifestyle in Italy, as much as he did the lifestyle in Paris.

“You,” Aaron admitted with a grin, enjoying how delight seemed to ooze from every inch of his boyfriend at his words.

“What about me?” Robert nudged.

“You want me to stroke your ego?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Always.”

Aaron shifted so he was sitting up properly himself, turning to face Robert. The beach was quiet, late April not the most popular time for getaways, and he was grateful for it. They had a corner to themselves, quiet little piece of heaven on the golden sands, and it was perfect.

(Everything always seemed to be perfect with Robert these days.)

“I’m thinking about how good you look,” Aaron admitted, giving Robert’s body an appreciative look, admiring the toned planes of his stomach, the broad length of his shoulders. “About how good I feel.”

“Yeah?”

“I - I never thought I could do this, a beach holiday,” Aaron said, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, hoping Robert could catch on, and Aaron wouldn’t have to admit it aloud. He never did like talking about it. “But I feel comfortable here, with you.”

Robert reached across the few inches of space between them, reassuring fingers wrapping tightly around Aaron’s wrist. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, sincere.

It was the sincerity that made it feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t - don’t do that,” Aaron shook his head, shifting away from Robert.

“Do what?”

“Talk about me like I’m actually brave or summat.”

“You are,” Robert looked utterly confusing, refusing to let Aaron back away completely. “Aaron, you’re the bravest person I know.”

“You obviously don’t know me well enough then.”

“I do.” Robert said, unwavering. “I know how you like your tea, in the morning - and I know that you prefer to drink it milkier, in the evenings. I know that you always have showers that are just slightly too hot, and it drives me  _insane_. I know that you pretend otherwise, but you don’t want to live anywhere other than Paris. I know that you snore.”

Aaron laughed. “I do not snore!”  
  
Robert fixed him with an apologetic look. “You do, you snore  _very_  badly,” he grinned. “And I know that the best thing I have ever done with my life, is love you, because its made me a better, happier man.”

“Soft lad,” Aaron mumbled, intertwining his fingers tightly with Robert’s. “Do you…..” he trailed off, looking around the quiet beach. “Do you think we’ll actually get to have this forever, you and me?”

Robert lifted Aaron’s hand to his mouth, warm lips grazing Aaron’s skin. “I think we deserve our happy ending.”

(Happy. That had been a foreign concept for Aaron, for a long time now.)

(Happy.)

(Aaron knew what happy felt like, driving along the Amalfi Coast with Robert in an open top car, the wind blowing through their hair, feeling their entire lives were ahead of them, just like the winding road that seemed to go on forever, the deep blue of the sea the perfect backdrop to their drive.)

(Happy.)

(Aaron could like being happy.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron wasn’t sure what had made him say it, in the end. Things had been good - amazing, even, since their trip to Italy, since the four days they’d spent loved up, wrapped up in each other.

They’d come back to Paris, and things had been perfect.

Aaron had all but moved into Robert’s apartment, Eva complaining she only ever saw him if he was coming home to change his clothes, or get more of his stuff to bring to Robert’s flat.

 _Their_  flat, because it felt like theirs now.

Work was even good. He and Henri were heading into the summer with some genuinely really reliable staff, and it was going to ease the pain of the usual Paris summer madness.

And then there was Robert.

Brilliant, gorgeous, perfect Robert. Aaron had never felt love like this before, had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Robert, content to spend all his free time completely wrapped up in the other man.

They’d made it their aim to do all the Paris cliches, before the summer was out. There was a deadline to their relationship these days, a one way flight to Boston with Robert’s name on it looming over even their happiest days, a reminder of all the things that still stood in the way of their happy ever after.

They were still happy though, doing all the romantic things tourist guides recommended, a recent evening spent wandering Montmartre a highlight, Aaron feeling as though this was exactly where he was supposed to be as he watched Robert order them ice-cream, the streets heaving with tourists.

They’d put a love lock on the bridge, that evening.

Aaron’s quip about how they take all the locks down now hadn’t gone down well, Robert kissing him into silence before he’d set to work drawing their names on the lock, neat handwriting declaring that Robert and Aaron were forever.

Aaron had pretended to put up a bit of a fight when Robert wanted him to kiss the key, but he couldn’t deny the warmth hat had flooded his body as he’d watched Robert fix the lock to the bridge, and toss the key into the Seine, their love permanently in place now (or at least it was until the city of Paris came along and stripped the bridge of the locks.)

It had been the perfect date.

They’d come home, and they’d had sex, and it had been nothing short of spectacular (if you’d forgive Aaron being soppy for a second) and they’d talked, and laughed, and kissed all night.

And then Aaron had to go and ruin it.

“Robert?” Aaron called, wondering if the other man had fallen asleep yet. His breathing was slow, and even, but sometimes he’d still be awake even then, just drifting on the edge of sleep.

“Mm.”

“You awake?”  
  
“Yeah,” Robert nuzzled closer into Aaron’s neck, not sounding particularly awake at all. “What’s wrong? You cold again?”

Aaron wasn’t sure why he’d said it, there and then, but the words were out of his mouth before he could really even stop himself.

“Robert, my dad raped me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron would never forget the way Robert froze, his body stiff against Aaron’s. The silence felt deafening, felt worse than if Robert had yelled, or shouted, or done anything.

But he was just  _quiet_.

Aaron felt panic overwhelm him, knowing he should have kept his mouth shut, should have kept it to himself. He’d spent most of his life, keeping it to himself, why did he decided to change now, when they were happy?

“Forget I said anything,” Aaron shook his head, struggling out of Robert’s grip, and out of the bed. His heart was going a mile a minute, and he couldn’t  _breathe,_ couldn’t  _think_.

“Aaron, where are you - you can’t use say something like that, and leave it there,” Robert shook his head, sitting up. He looked wide awake now, horror written all over his face.

“I shouldn’t have told you, I shouldn’t have,” Aaron shook his head, shrugging on a jumper, fumbling with his tracksuit bottoms. He didn’t heard a word Robert said, not for the next few minutes, not as he stumbled around the room in a panic, heading for the kitchen.

He felt like he was having a heart attack.

Gripping the edge of the sink in the kitchen, Aaron tried to force a few deep breaths in, tried to steady this breathing.

“Aaron, hey, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Robert’s voice was calm, too calm, as though Aaron hadn’t just told him something absolutely life changing, earth-shattering.

“Don’t touch me,” Aaron blurted out, fearful Robert would try and do as he always did when Aaron wasn’t feeling the best, scoop him into a hug and hold him close. He wasn’t sure he could handle that right now.

“I won’t, I promise,” Robert reassured. “I’m just going to reach around you to fill a glass of water though, okay? I won’t touch you though.”

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, listening as Robert moved around the kitchen, listened to the familiar sound of rushing water.

“It’s next to your right hand.”

Aaron didn’t say anything for a few more seconds, letting his panic completely overwhelm him. He hadn’t felt this bad in a very long time, hadn’t felt like this, like the world was crashing in around him.

“Please try and drink the water, Aaron.”

Aaron gave a reluctant nod, reaching out with a shaky hand for the glass. He spilled half of it on the kitchen counter, on the first go, but he managed to gulp a few sips of the cool water down, his throat feeling a little less like it was going to close up completely from panic.

The tears started before he could say anything else. It felt as though a dam had burst, like everything he’d been holding in for years now was exploding out all at once, and he just  _sobbed_.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry for, eh?” Robert was being so calm, so reassuring, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“You didn’t sign up for this,” Aaron hiccuped, looking at Robert through teary eyes. Shock was still written all over Robert’s face, but it had mostly been replaced with concern now, real, genuine concern.

“I signed up for  _you_ ,” Robert said, as though that made up for it all, made up for all the broken, damaged pieces of Aaron he was yet to know. “I love you, Aaron. I love you, and whatever - whatever i can do to help, I’m here.”

Aaron looked at him, wide-eyed. “You believe me?”

Robert shook his head, as though the answer was completely obvious. “Of course I believe you.”

That was the straw that broke the camels back, Aaron supposed. One second, he was blubbering quietly, and the next, he was  _hysterical_ , sobbing into Robert’s arms, pulling the two of them to the kitchen floor as he sobbed.

_He believed him._

_Someone believed him._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron hated how he was used to the gossip now. Ever since it had all come out about Gordon, Aaron had been the centre of attention in the village, the talk of the town. From his own family, it had come from a place of support, he knew that much, but not everyone was on his side.

No, he’d learnt that the hard way.

Apparently, it was easy to believe Aaron was lying, that he’d make something like his up to get back at his useless excuse for a father.

At least thats what the gossip was that morning in the shop.

Aaron had only come in to buy a pint of milk, and some bread, his mum rushing to sort that mornings deliveries, down a pair of hands because of Marlon needing to take April to the dentist, so Aaron was on breakfast duty.

Breakfast duty with an empty bread bin, and not a drop of milk to make himself a cup of tea, so he’d ventured out.

He’d ventured out, and he immediately regretted it.

“All I’m saying is that it’s been a long time, you know? Who’s to say its all true,” Carly shrugged, leaning over the counter to talk to Tracey, who was nodding along in agreement.

“I say its true.”

Aaron hated how all eyes were on him as soon as he spoke, Carly, David and Tracey all wearing equally panicked expressions, realising they’d been caught gossiping. He slammed the milk and bread down on the counter, furious.

“I say its true because I have to remember it all,” he practically growled. “This might feel like fun gossip to you lot, but this is my life, and I’ve had to live through all of this, so I say its true.”

“Aaron, we didn’t mean anything by it -“

“You did.” Aaron interrupted, heart feeling like it was beating out of his chest. “You can shove the milk, eh? I won’t force you to sell anything to a dirty little liar like me.”

He barely made it out of the shop before his tears started, the beginnings of a panic attack taking hold in his chest.

They didn’t believe him.

_No one was going to believe him._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d sat up, and talked all night. Aaron had cried for longer than he cared to admit, longer than he even realised, probably, cried until he didn’t have a single tear left in him, and then they'd talked.

He’d told Robert everything, and Robert had stayed.

He’d stayed.

“It’s why I haven’t gone back to Emmerdale,” Aaron admitted, absently tracing patterns on Robert’s palm, keeping his focus there. It was harder, to talk about it all, if he looked at Robert, if he had to sit, and look his boyfriend in the eyes, and tell him all about how his father had abused him.

“Because you haven’t told anyone?”

“I told my mum."

“And she didn’t believe you?” Robert was incredulous.

“No, she did,” Aaron shook his head. “Her, and Paddy - my sort of dad - they both know, but they wanted me to report it to the police.”

“You didn’t want to?” Robert asked, not wanting to prod, or push too much. Aaron appreciated it, how sensitive Robert was being - it was hardly Robert’s strong suit, at the best of times, and so he was grateful for how much effort the other man really was making.

It was impossible for Aaron to talk about, sure, but he could only imagine what it was like to hear it. He’d told Chas and Paddy, a few weeks before he’d left Emmerdale, Gordon’s reappearance in his life too much to handle, and Paddy, kind and understanding Paddy, had barely coped with hearing it.

Chas hadn’t coped at all.

Aaron shook his head. “I didn’t think I could go through with the court case,” he admitted. “Adam, he set fire to the garage in Emmerdale, nearly killed Cain. I decided to take the fall for it, come to France with Ed, leave it all behind. I made my mum and Paddy promise to never tell anyone.”

“So you can’t go home?”

“I could.” Aaron admitted. “Adam couldn't take the guilt, after a while. He owned up to it all, served his time. I’ll probably get some kind of slap on the wrist if I ever do go back, but..”

“But?” Robert nudged.

“The night I left, I set fire to Gordon’s car. I figured I had nothing left to lose anyway, so why not make him pay for what he'd done to me?” Aaron admitted, remembering how he’d gone to Hotten in the dead of night, an early flight to catch with Ed the next day. He’d spotted his father through the window, stared him down as he lit the match, and sent Gordon’s car from a pristine company car, to a burnt out shell.

“So you’ll be done for criminal damage, if you go back,” Robert nodded, realisation slowly dawning.

Aaron let out a shaky breath. “Probably.”

“What if you told the police why you did it? What he did to you?” Robert said. “Wouldn’t they drop the charges then?”

“Dunno,” Aaron shrugged. “I’d have to tell people, then. I don’t know if I could cope with the whole village knowing, having them all pity me, look at me like I’m some kind of victim.”

“You’re not a victim.”

“That’s all I would be, if this went to court,” Aaron said bitterly. “Poor Aaron Dingle, did you hear? His dad raped him, when he was a kid. Is it any wonder that he turned out the way he did, eh?”

“People are always going to find a reason to gossip,” Robert said, after a moment’s silence. “Is avoiding that worth giving up justice for yourself?”

“How is justice going to make it any better?” Aaron shook his head. He’d thought about it, a thousand times - wondered how it would feel if he was sitting in court, watching Gordon get sent down for what he’d done to him.

Would it feel better? Would anything even change? Aaron wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk it, risk the pitying looks he was sure to get for the rest of his life if all his friends and family, and neighbours knew.

“I’m not going to push you to do anything,” Robert began, sounding hesitant. “But I wonder if maybe justice would help any.”

Aaron’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he spoke. “You’re talking like this is something I’d ever be able to get over, no matter if I get justice or not.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Justice.

It was a funny term, Aaron decided, as he sat in the police station, ready for yet another interview, another session where DS Wise would have to pick his childhood apart, him and his team desperate to find some sort of evidence, something they could use to charge Gordon.

Justice.

Growing up, you always think that the police, the courts, are going to be on your side, if someone ever hurts you. Aaron remembered watching episode after episode of Law and Order, and those victims always found their justice.

Their abuser was always locked up, the key thrown away.

Aaron’s abuser was living in a town twenty minutes from him, unscathed, his life going on as normal.

Where was the justice in that? In making Aaron relive the worst parts of his life over, and over, and all for what? For Gordon to be able to walk away? For him to not even be charged?

No, that wasn’t justice.

That felt a lot like the legal system failing him.

Aaron had come alone today.

The last few times he'd had interviews (chats, as Jason called them) he’d brought his mum, or Cain, or even Lisa, but he was sick of coming out of the interview room, tears pouring down his cheeks, and getting nothing but pity from his family.

Aaron didn’t want to be a victim.

“Aaron, apologies for keeping you waiting, but we’ve had a breakthrough,” Jason said, folder in hand as he gave him his usual supportive smile. “We’ve managed to find your former stepmother, Sandra, and she’s agreed to give evidence against Gordon.”

If he hadn’t already been sitting, Aaron was sure he’d have collapsed to the ground at Jason’s words.

“We’ve charged him, Aaron,” Jason continued, giving Aaron a reassuring smile. “The trial is set to begin on the fifth of September.”

The fifth of September.

That was a month away.

Maybe - maybe he would get justice.

(Maybe Robert had been right.)

Aaron felt like he was floating, as he got back to the Woolpack.

Gordon had been charged.

The had a court date.

Gordon had been charged.

The news wasn’t quite sinking in, and all Aaron wanted was to tell his mum, tell her and Paddy that the police believed him, they really believed him, and they had charged that monster of a man who’d done dos very best to ruin Aaron.

His mum wasn't behind the bar though, Victoria and Diane were, looking equally as excited as each other as they spoke to Katie and Andy, Victoria waving what looked like a wedding invitation around in the air.

“Aaron, did you hear? Robert and Chrissie are renewing their vows!” Victoria exclaimed excitedly. “Robert is paying for all of us to come over to Boston for it, in October.”

Robert and Chrissie were renewing their vows.

In  _October_.

Robert was making plans to still be with Chrissie, still be in America way past the 31st August, way past the day he was supposed to be in Paris to meet Aaron, to start his life with Aaron.

What sort of a mug was he, eh, believing that Robert would actually leave her?

“Aaron, are you okay?”

The room was spinning around him as he looked at the gathered Sugden’s, his vision swimming. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he admitted, before the room turned black altogether, Aaron hitting the floor with an almighty crash.

(Robert and Chrissie were renewing their vows.)

(Gordon got charged.)

(Robert didn’t love him anymore.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert had suggested they go and watch the sunset, at the Sacre Coeur. It was the height of tourist season now, and the steps were insanely busy, people everywhere. Aaron wasn’t really sure if he’d felt up to it, felt up to being around all those people, but Robert had suggested it with such a sincere smile on his face, Aaron couldn’t refuse.

He was bundled up in a hoodie though, the physical comfort it offered exactly what he needed. It had been a week, since Aaron had told Robert, and he hadn’t felt his best since.

(Understandably, Robert had quipped one evening, cooking dinner yet again, having called Henri on Aaron’s behalf, explaining he was still suffering from a terrible migraine and couldn’t go to work.)

(Aaron didn’t feel as though he deserved the understanding.)

Aaron let Robert pull him close, the older man’s arm a reassuring weight around Aaron’s shoulders.

“The first time you took me here,” Robert began, gaze on the dusty pinks and oranges of the Parisian sky. “Was probably the best night of my entire life. I’ll never forget how special that was, to get to see this amazing view - and see it with you. I didn’t realise then how much you were going to change my life.”

“All I’ve done is be in love with you,” Aaron mumbled, cheek pressed to the soft material of Robert’s shirt.

“Exactly,” Robert pressed a kiss to the top of Aaron’s head. “You love  _me_. You love all the things about me I’ve never told anyone, love me for who I really am. I’ve never had this with anyone before.”

“Neither have I.”

“You know that everything you’ve told me, everything you’ve said - I’ll never tell a soul,” Robert promised. “If you want, I’ll take it to my grave.”

“And if I don’t want you to do that?”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way if you decide to report it,” Robert said. “Whether it’s in person - or on the phone. All I want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is be there for you.”

Aaron wrapped an arm around Robert’s back, holding him close. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready to report it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“That first night,” Aaron said after a few minutes silence. “It was special for me too.”

“Yeah?” Robert grinned at him, smile wide and eyes bright, genuine happiness painted across every inch of his face, despite what an emotionally draining week it had actually been.

“You came along right when I was ready to love you,” Aaron admitted, remembering how he'd walked the city alone, the night he’d met Robert. How he’d decided there and then, that he was ready to fall in love.

He just hadn’t expected it to happen that night.

“You don’t say much,” Robert murmured, tilting Aaron’s chin so he could kiss him properly. “But when you do….” he trailed off, as though he wasn’t sure of how to word it, if it could be put into words.

Aaron understood though.

The harder things, the things neither of them had the words for, they had always gone unspoken between them.

Maybe thats what made them so special.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” Robert echoed, holding him close. They sat, on the steps of the Sacre Coeur, until the sunset turned into complete darkness, the city illuminated by bright lights, and street signs.

They sat as eleven turned to half past, and eventually turned to midnight.

Midnight in Paris, and for the first time in too many years, Aaron felt like he might be alright.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron’s hands were shaking as he picked up his phone, dialling Robert's number. He was breaking all their rules, wasn’t he? They were supposed to just meet under the Eiffel Tower on August 31st, and thats when they’d know.

But he couldn’t. Aaron couldn’t go on like this, couldn’t keep hearing about how wonderful Robert’s life in America was, how he and Chrissie were doing so well, how happy they were together now.

He needed to tell Robert how he felt.

The call went straight to voicemail. Aaron could have thrown his phone, he was so angry - he just wanted to yell, and scream, and tell Robert Sugden exactly what he thought of him, but all he got was a message minder.

It would have to do.

“I hate you,” Aaron blurted, tears welling up in his eyes. “I hate you for letting me fall in love with you the way I did, Robert. You were it for me, and I’m what, just a fling? A way for you to pass the time? Did any of it mean anything, or did you just completely use me? That’s what everyone says you are - a liar, a  _cheat_ , you just use people to get what you want from them, and then you throw them away. Thats exactly what you’ve done with me, isn’t it?”

Aaron choked back a sob. “I trusted you,” he managed to say. “Robert, I trusted you with things I’d never been able to tell anyone before. The only reason - the only reason I came back to Emmerdale was because you told me you believed in me. That you believed I could do it, you believed I could report it - that I could get justice. Well, you were wrong, because no one believes me. The police don’t, no one does. And I don’t have you anymore, do I?”

Aaron hated that he was crying now, really properly crying. He hated that even from thousands of miles away, Robert still had this hold over him, that he still loved Robert.

That he'd always love him.

“I hope you and Chrissie are  _very_  happy. Don’t worry, Vic’s told me all about it - about how you’re renewing your vows, how happy you both are together,” Aaron felt like he was going to be  _sick_. “Did you ever love me, Robert? Because it doesn’t feel like you did. It feels like it was all a lie, all those nights - all those I love yous. Did you mean any of it, or where you just looking for a decent shag?”

Aaron was angry. Angry, and hurt, and he wanted Robert to hurt the way he was. “I hate you,” he choked out, roughly wiping at his tears. “I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone in my life. I hope - I hope you don’t plan on being in Paris, on the 31st, because I won’t be there. I’m never going to be anything to you again, Robert. You - you ruined me. You ruined  _us_ , and I am never going to forgive you for it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was bone tired. The kind of tired that sleep wasn’t going to fix. The kind of tired he wasn’t sure anything would fix. He’d come home, and he’d cried himself to sleep after he’d called Robert, like he was a  _child._ He’d locked his bedroom door, and he’d cried, and cried, until he had nothing left.

He felt tired, and  _empty_.

He’d turned his phone off too, determined not to give Robert a chance to reply to him. Robert Sugden had been given all the chances he’d ever get from Aaron, and Aaron had said his piece.

Job done, case closed.

Until two days after the phonecall.

Aaron was the only one up and about, getting ready for an early scrap run when there was a knock at the door, furious, and insistent, the kind of knock that would wake the rest of the house.

His mum and Diane wouldn’t be pleased.

Grumbling under his breath, Aaron yanked open the door. “You’e a bit early for a delivery, aren’t -“

“What the fuck was that phonecall, Aaron?”

 _Robert_.

Robert was standing on his doorstep, flustered and exhausted looking, a bag slung over one shoulder, a furious expression on his face.

Had he - had he come all this way, because of a  _phonecall_?

“I’ve said everything I need to say,” Aaron said, trying to shove the door closed, his heart racing in his chest.

Robert stuck a foot in the doorway, a determined look on his face. “I haven’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d become that couple on the Metro, the ones that stood close together, cuddled even, huddled against the hard plastic of the chairs. Aaron was perfectly content to let Robert wrap a protective arm around his shoulders, and hold him tightly to his chest.

He’d never been much of a one for PDA, really, but being near Robert like this? Well, he wasn’t going to pretend as though he hated it.

“We should go on a holiday,” Robert murmured, clearly having had been thinking about it the entire Metro journey so far.

“When?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You leave for Boston in two weeks.”

“Next year,” Robert said, as though it were obvious. “We should go somewhere exciting, like - I don’t know, Australia, or New Zealand.”

“I’ve never been,” Aaron admitted.

“Neither have I,” Robert said, holding a little tighter to Aaron as the carriage turned a particularly short corner. “I’d like to go somewhere new, with you.”

“You’re so soft,” Aaron grinned, pinching at Robert’s stomach. It was the height of summer now, and Robert had discarded his usual layers of clothes in favour of light summer shirt, the sleeves short, and the material thin under Aaron’s hands.

“You love it though.”

“Yeah,” Aaron admitted, tilting his head in a clear invitation for Robert to kiss him. “I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was  _angry_. Angrier than he’d ever been in his life, if he were honest. “What the hell are you doing, turning up at my house like you’ve got any right to be here?” he demanded, stepping out into the cool morning air, not wanting his mum or Diane to overhear.

“You really thought you could leave me a message like that, and I wouldn’t come to get an explanation?” Robert looked equally as furious.

“Just - go back to your perfect life in America, Robert.”’

“My perfect life?” Robert hissed at him. “I’m getting a divorce, Aaron, just like I promised you. I’m holding onto my job by the skin of my teeth, and I’m pretty sure Lawrence actually wants to have me killed, but yeah, I’m having a really great time in Boston.”

Aaron couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. “I - I didn’t think -“

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Robert interrupted with a growl. “Did you really think I was going to tell Victoria my life was crumbling apart? Can you imagine how much Katie and Andy would have enjoyed that. I thought you trusted me, Aaron - I thought you trusted me to do this.”

Aaron’s momentary forgiveness of Robert felt as though it disappeared instantly. “Don’t you dare turn this on me.”

“Aaron-“

“No, you don't get to turn up like this, and blame this on me. Do you have any idea of how hard this year has been for me? How much I’ve been struggling?” Aaron demanded, barely resisting the urge to yell, and scream at Robert. “I’ve got half the village thinking I’m some sick little liar, telling tales about how my dad  _raped_  me, and the other half think I’m some kind of pitiful victim, and I’ve been doing it all on my own.”

That shut Robert up.

“Poor Robert, eh? What a horrible life you’ve got, in your big fancy house in Boston, plenty of money, a beautiful wife,” Aaron spat, sarcastic. “I live in my mum’s spare room, and I’ve had to relive all those times my dad came into my room at night and _raped_ me a hundred times over this year.”

“Aaron, please, don’t-“

“Don’t what? Don’t talk about it? But I thought you wanted me to get justice, Robert, I thought you wanted me to step up and tell people,” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from shoving at Robert’s chest, wanting the other man to even feel half the hurt he was feeling now, how every step he took these days was with a heavy heart, an ache in his chest. “You don’t want to hear about it? Try having to live with it.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Diane’s voice drifted down the stairs.

“Aaron, love, who is it?” Diane was wrapping her dressing gown tightly around herself, looking dazed wth sleep. Her eyes widened in shock as he realised who was standing on the doorstep, looking frazzled. “Robert, what are you doing here?”

It barely took Robert half a second to switch into his usual, schmoozing personality. He grinned widely at Diane, holding out his arms for a hug. “I figured I was overdue a visit home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So Diane’s your stepmum, right?”

Robert nodded, sitting at the opposite end of the couch, beer in hand. They were having a lazy evening in, having had demolished enough takeaway for four people between them.

“I was eighteen, when her and my dad got married,” Robert said. “I never really got to know her the way Victoria and Andy did, though. I was gone, the year after - haven’t been back since.”

“Not even for your dads funeral?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Robert shook his head. “I made it back as far as the village for it,” he admitted, the peeling label on his bottle of beer suddenly very interesting. “I couldn’t go, in the end. I was too angry.”

“You were allowed to be.”

“What kind of son does that make me, though?” Robert looked frustrated with himself. ‘I bet - I beth Andy did everything I should have been there to do, carried the coffin n’all. I couldn't even sit in the church and say goodbye to him.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Every day,” Robert admitted. “Me and my dad, it’s not like things are great between us, you know? But he was still my dad, at the end of the day. I had one chance to say goodbye to him, and I didn’t take it.”

Aaron gave him a sympathetic smile, nudging Robert’s leg with his foot. “Maybe you will someday.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day had been a whirlwind, since Diane had noticed Robert at the door. Aaron had barely seen him, and he was grateful for it, if he was honest. It had given him the time he needed to try and process his thoughts, figure out what he really wanted to say to Robert.

When he’d finally figured it out, he couldn’t find him.

Robert was supposed to be staying at the Woolpack, with them, but it was close to midnight, and he still wasn’t back, not in the spare room, or down in the pub, nursing a pint.

Something in Aaron just knew where he was. He’d donned a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, heading out into the cool evening, and into the graveyard. He didn’t know exactly where Jack and Sarah Sugden’s graves were, but he spotted Robert’s familiar head of blond hair easily.

“It’s not exactly midnight in Paris, is it?” Aaron quipped, Robert looking up with a sad expression on his face.

“If you’re going to have another go, I don’t know if I can handle it,” Robert admitted. He was sitting on the grass in front of Jack’s gravestone, and if he turned his head just so, Aaron could see tears staining his cheeks.

“‘M not,” Aaron shrugged, easing himself down onto the damp grass next to Robert. “You finally say goodbye then?”

“Told him I hated him,” Robert said, yanking at the overly long grass. “I told him I hated him, and I hated how he always made me feel as though I wasn’t good enough, as though I didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Aaron stayed quiet.

“I told him I hated him for making me so afraid to be myself,” Robert continued, tears welling in my eyes. “He made me terrified to be bisexual, and I am always going to hate him for that.”

He turned to look at Aaron, an apologetic look on his face. “I know it doesn’t even compare to what your dad did to you, so I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you can compare,” Aaron shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it, if he was honest. “They’re different kinds of hurt.”

“Still,” Robert sighed. “I’m sorry if I made you feel more alone, this year. I really - I really thought I was doing the right thing, playing happy families with Chrissie until I could make sure I had everything sorted for me to leave.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” Robert sighed. “I’m too in love with you to pretend like I could want a life with Chrissie.”

“So what do we do now?” Aaron asked. It was two weeks, to the 31st, two weeks until they were actually supposed to meet in Paris. If Robert stayed, if Robert just stayed in Emmerdale, Aaron knew they’d make it.

They’d be okay.

Robert gave a sad shrug. “I have no idea.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They ended up in Aaron’s room.

They’d stayed at the graveyard until it was too cold to bear, until Robert’s hands were stiff with cold, and Aaron was longing for a cup of tea and bed, and so they’d walked home, shoulders bumping together occasionally.

It felt a little awkward, at times, but it had been nearly a year, since they’d gotten to spend any time together at all, so Aaron figured that was normal.

It had all felt a little like routine, when they’d made it to Aaron’s room, Robert automatically going for the right side of the bed, Aaron on the left, memories of all the nights they’d spent together in Paris coming flooding back.

“I don’t….” Aaron trailed off, feeling uncomfortable. “I can’t…”

“I can sleep in the spare room, if you like,” Robert said gently, knowing, of course he knew. He’d gotten used to those nights where Aaron couldn’t stand to be touched, when he'd struggle with the mere idea of being close to anyone else.

(He’d even slept on the couch a few times, more understanding than Aaron ever deserved.)

This wasn’t one of those nights.

Aaron didn’t feel ready for sex, for anything like that, sure, but he still wanted to be close to Robert.

Wanted to feel the other man close.

“No, I want you to stay,” Aaron shook his head, clambering beneath the duvet, hoping Robert would just get the message and join him. It took a few seconds, seconds that felt like excruciatingly long minutes, but eventually, Robert shrugged off his jacket, and jeans, and eased himself into bed alongside Aaron.

“Is this okay?” Robert asked, practically hanging off the edge of the bed, leaving as much space between them as he possibly could.

Aaron rolled his eyes, reaching across for Robert’s waist, pulling him in close. He couldn’t stop himself from burying his face in Robert’s chest, breathing in the other man’s familiar scent. He felt Robert stiffen for a second, before he wrapped his arms around Aaron, the position familiar.

“This is okay,” Aaron said quietly, hoping, wishing Robert would just stay forever, that every night from then on would be like this, the two of them together.

Just you and me.

(Aaron didn’t need Paris, or the promise of a fancy apartment, he just needed Robert.)

(He just needed Robert to stay.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert was gone.

Aaron woke up that morning, expecting to see Robert curled up in bed beside him, but he was gone.

Maybe he’d gone back to his own room, so as not to make anyone suspicious. It’s not as though he was out to his family, like they could explain why Robert slept in with Aaron, the two of them curled around each other like they never wanted to let go again.

(They hadn’t done anything, hadn’t had sex. Aaron wasn’t ready to be with someone like that again, not after dozens of interviews with the police where he’d had to relive it all, had to remember how it had all happened, how it had hurt.)

(But still, just being close to Robert had resulted in the best nights sleep Aaron had gotten all year.)

Aaron roused himself out of bed, padding down the hallway and knocking on the door of the spare room. He pushed open the door when he didn’t get an answer, finding it completely empty, bed neatly made.

He was getting worried now.

Aaron made his way downstairs to the kitchen, the pub already full of people, Diane and Victoria sitting at the kitchen table, Chas making tea. “Where did Robert go?” he inquired, hoping he sounded completely casual, as though he wasn’t desperate to know.

“He’s gone back to America,” Victoria admitted tearfully, brandishing a piece of notepaper. “He didn’t say goodbye, he just upped and left. He’d only been home a day! I had so much I wanted to talk to him about.”

Aaron’s heart sank, and he took the paper from Victoria’s vice-grip, scanning the note for something, anything, a reason as to why Robert had done this.

 _I wish I could have stayed_ , the note read,  _but this isn’t home anymore, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I land back in Boston._

**_I’ll call you when I land back in Boston._ **

Despite everything, despite how much they’d talked last night, he’d gone back to her, gone back to Chrissie.

Aaron set the note down on the kitchen table, forcing a smile, pretending as though he wasn’t breaking apart inside. “I best get to work,” he said, ignoring his mums protests about him having breakfast, heading for the front door.

He didn’t let himself cry until he was locked in his car, hands on the wheel, and nowhere to go.

Robert had left him alone again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you think you’ll ever tell your family? About being bisexual, I mean,” Aaron asked, the two of them going through the tedious routine of the washing up, Aaron washing, Robert drying.

They’d gotten lazy, and the dishwasher was already full, Robert having forgotten to turn it on the previous evening.

(Maybe a lot of that was down to Aaron being as distracting as he could be, dropping to his knees in the kitchen while Robert fumbled with a box of dishwasher tablets, but he was taking no responsibility for the fact Robert refused to get back out of bed once Aaron had shagged him absolutely senseless.)

Robert looked thoughtful, carefully drying some of the nicer glasses he’d bought for champagne. They were wasted on Aaron, really, considering he didn’t much like champagne, and was content to drink it out of the bottle anyway, but they’d done for a glass of orange juice that morning, everything else in the dishwasher.

“I’d like Victoria to know, I think,” he said, reaching up to put the glasses back on the highest shelf of the cupboard. “What she thinks means a lot to me.”

“She was really supportive, when I came out,” Aaron said, quick to reassure him.

“It’s different when its your family though, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Aaron shook his head, pausing, elbow deep in soapy water. Of all the friends he had, of all the people he’d grown up with in Emmerdale, Victoria Sugden was the one with the kindest heart of all. She’d been an amazing friend to him, through coming out, through Jackson.

He was sure she’d understand.

“I guess I’m just afraid of them not accepting me,” Robert said quietly. “My dad never would have, and Andy is just like him. What if - what if I go back to build bridges, and I just end up ruining everything even more?”

Aaron wasn’t sure what to say, if he was honest.

Coming out, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, so he didn’t exactly want to lie, and pretend to Robert like it was going to be easy, or even feel like it was worth it, at times.

(Because sometimes, if he was honest, Aaron didn’t feel it was worth it, didn’t feel like being true to yourself was worth the pain, the hurt.)

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Robert’s t-shirt clad shoulder. “You know I’ll love you, whatever you decide to do.”

Robert gave him a grateful smile. “That’s exactly why I want you to be there, when I tell her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Robert told me.”

Aaron looked up from his food, giving Victoria a curious look. “Told you he was a pain in the arse, or?” he decided feigning ignorance was his best option here, at least until Victoria decided to stop being so cryptic.

“He told me he’s bisexual, Aaron,” Victoria’s voice dropped to a low hush as she slid into the chair opposite him, eyes wide. “He told me all about Paris, and you and him.”

“Did he now?” Aaron couldn’t help but wonder  _when_  Robert had found the time to tell Victoria all about Paris, and wonder why exactly he hadn’t told Aaron he’d come out to his little sister, finally.

It was a big deal.

“He was so scared, Aaron, I’ve never seen him like that before,” Victoria said, brow furrowing. “Did he say anything to you before he left?”  
  
“Nope,” Aaron let his knife and fork fall to his plate with a clatter, shrugging at Victoria. “And he’s his choice very clear, he’s gone back to America - and Chrissie.”

“He’s not happy with her.”

Aaron shrugged, giving her his best ‘why should I care’ look. “Then I guess he gets to be unhappy for the rest of his life then, doesn’t he? Either way, it’s not my problem anymore Vic.”

“Aaron, please -“

“I’m glad he told you,” Aaron interrupted, standing up. “I know better than anyone how hard it is to tell the people you love the most. But he’s made his choice, and it’s not me.”

Victoria put a hand on his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “What about Paris?”

Aaron hated how his breath caught in his throat, how the mere mention of the city had his heart racing in his chest. He forced himself to look as though he didn’t care, giving Victoria a shrug. “What about it?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The summer went by too quickly. Aaron tried to savour every moment, soak up every second of time he got to spent with Robert before he had to go back to America, before August rolled around and their bubble of happiness would be shattered.

But August did come. It came too quickly, and before Aaron could think about it, he was helping Robert to pack up his apartment, and ship his things back to Boston.

Their last night came too quickly, too. Aaron had been hoping for a night spent wrapped up in Robert’s arms, making the most of the few hours they did have left, but Robert had insisted on them going to the Eiffel Tower.

Aaron had lost count of the amount of times the other man had dragged him to see the tower light up at midnight over the course of the (almost) year they'd been together, but Robert’s childlike excitement always remained the same.

It was almost endearing, really, and Aaron knew he would treasure every single one of those nights when Robert was gone, when he was here alone, if he decided to go back to Emmerdale.

(He hadn’t decided, not yet, but Aaron wasn’t so sure if he wanted to live in Paris alone, without Robert. Every inch of the city was drowned in memories now, drowned in all the ways they'd fallen in love, too hard, too fast, forever.)

They’d avoided talking about the future for most of the summer, but they had to talk about it now.

Had to make plans, for when Robert’s divorce came through, and it was just the two of them, and the rest of their lives together.

“If you think you could still love me a year from now, meet me here.” Robert said, a bright grin on his face as they stretched out on the grass, beers in hand. It was getting close to midnight now, and even after the so many times he’d seen it, Aaron still felt a bubble of anticipation in his stomach as they waited for the Eiffel Tower to light up.

He’d never admit it aloud, but it had felt magical, that first time Robert had brought him to watch the tower light up. Aaron had seen it before, with Ed, but with Robert - well, his heart had been in his mouth and Robert’s lips had been on his neck, murmuring softly about how Paris was the only place in the world where anyone should try and fall in love, really.

Glancing over at Robert, admiring the way his fringe was falling over his forehead, hair messy and soft, making him look so much younger than he was, Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You  _what_?”

Robert shifted so he was leaning on his side, giving Aaron an intent gaze. “I know we’ve both got our shit to sort out,” he said, glancing at the wedding ring that still sat on his finger, mind still clearly on the life in America he’d only really stepped out of, the life that was waiting for him to come back to. “But if we’ve got it sorted in a years time, we’ll give it a proper go.”

“You’re  _mad,_ ” Aaron snorted, taking the wine bottle from Robert’s grip. He’d lost count, of the evenings they’d spent sprawled out on the grass, trading wine flavoured kisses and stupid jokes.

It felt like he was living in a movie sometimes, being with Robert, being with Robert in  _Paris_. He’d never imagined he’d feel such a connection with the city when he’d first moved over, but every inch, every winding street and tiny café, was painted with memories of Robert, of dates and kisses and arguments and all the ways they’d fallen in love, messy and wonderful and the  _very_  best thing he had in his life.

“Hear me out before you judge me!” Robert rolled his eyes, checking the date on his watch, the familiar scent of his cologne assaulting Aaron’s senses as he moved, their bodies inches from each other as they laid together, stretched out on the grass, one of Robert’s ankles hooked over his own. “It’s August 31st.”

“Well aware, mate.”

“Not your mate,” Robert smirked, before he continued. “Meet me right here, under the Eiffel Tower, before midnight on August 31st, 2018.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “And what if one of us doesn’t turn up?”

“Then we know its over,” Robert said, a sad crack to his voice as he spoke, as though he didn’t want to pretend as though the possibility of one of them not showing up was  _real_ , as though he couldn't accept the idea that this, them, could be over just like that.

Aaron couldn’t quite accept it either. “Just like that?” he asked, looking down at the sticky wine label, peeling the edge of it away from the glass bottle. He’d had a lot of moments like this, over the past year or so, moments when he’d wonder if he’d ever be able to let Robert go.

If he was strong enough to walk away.

“Just like that.” Robert confirmed, easing the wine bottle from Aaron’s fingers, so he could take a drink himself. He was wearing a floral shirt Aaron pretended to hate, more casual than Aaron often saw him, Robert a fan of fitted suits and expensive watches, ever the local on the fashionable streets of Paris. “A year to sort our shit, think you can do it?”

Aaron thought about Emmerdale, about the  _mess_  that awaited him if he went home, if he left the life he’d built for himself in Paris and faced up to the problems he had in England.

Thought about the life in America Robert still had, the wife he had to divorce, the  business empire he’d helped to build that he stood to lose, if he left her.

“Do you think you can?” he countered, amused at the glimmer of shock that crossed Robert’s face.

“I’d do it for you.” Robert said quietly, saying everything he couldn’t with his eyes, with those gorgeous, open, expressive eyes of his. They were similar, in a lot of ways, both of them unsure of how to truly express their love, the depths of what they shared.

It was scary, to love someone the way they loved each other.

_“But whats life without a little fear?”_

Robert’s words from a few months ago rung in his mind as he mulled over the proposition, the absolutely ridiculous plan Robert had just suggested.

“Okay,” Aaron breathed his agreement.

“Yeah?”

“It’s absolutely  _mental_ , but yeah. I’ll meet you here this day next year,” Aaron laughed, laughed at the ridiculousness of what he was agreeing to. Who knows where he would be in a year, what he would want?

 ** _Who_**  he’d want.

He’d want Robert.  _Of course_  he’d want Robert, of course he’d want to man he’d spent eleven months falling in love with, the man who’d opened his eyes to a whole new world, a whole new life filled with happiness, and endless long, happy days full of love.

A life he’d never thought he could have, if he was honest.

Aaron had never believed he’d get his fairytale ending, the happy ever after and the husband, not after he’d come out. Being gay, it had been a struggle from day one, to come to terms with it, and Aaron had begun to think he was destined for a life of failed relationships and brief interludes of happiness.

And then he’d met Robert.

This smug, pain in the arse businessman who had changed his entire world, changed how he looked at the world.

“Promise me then.” Robert nudged, holding out a pinky finger, making Aaron laugh as he hooked his finger around Robert’s, holding tight.

“I promise you, Robert Jacob Sugden, that if I still love you in a year, I’ll be right here at midnight.” Aaron recited solemnly, pulling a face as he made the ridiculous promise to his boyfriend.

“I promise you the same, Aaron Dingle.” Robert sealed their promise with a kiss, holding Aaron close as they kissed, a hand on the back of Aaron’s head, cradling him close.

Aaron revelled in the feeling, knowing tonight was the last he’d get with Robert, the blonde on a one way flight back to Boston in the morning, knowing he too would have some big decisions to make, knowing he’d have to decide if he’d go back to Emmerdale, if he’d face up to everything he’d done, the chaos he’d left behind.

But that was tomorrow. That was  _all_  for tomorrow.

The world lit up golden as the Eiffel Tower came to life, lighting up the Parisian night sky. Robert grinned at him, hair as golden as the sparkling tower, a wide smile on his face.

“Anyway, we’ll always have Paris,” he quipped, eyes bright as he laughed at his own joke.

Aaron snorted, holding Robert close. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“An idiot you love.”

And Aaron did love him. He loved Robert more than he’d ever have the words for, more than he was ever going to be able to accurately describe, more than he’d ever loved anyone, or anything in his life.

He loved him enough to wait. Aaron loved him enough to come back here, in a years time, and take the chance, risk it all for the promise of a future with Robert.

He’d be back here, Aaron promised himself, he’d be back here in a year’s time, and then he’d get his happy ending.

The universe owed him that much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the date, as he woke up that morning.

August 31st.

A year ago, he’d promised he’d come back to Paris, and he’d meet Robert by the Eiffel Tower. It had been so easy to agree to, a year ago now - Aaron hadn’t thought anything would change, he’d thought it would be the easiest decision he’d ever make.

A year, to sort out their problems, and then it would just be the two of them against the world. It had sounded so good, a year ago, but now? Well, Aaron was waking with a heavy heart.

He couldn’t go.

He’d bought his ticket, back in January, back when he’d been at his lowest, back when August 31s was all he had to look forward to, but Aaron wasn’t going to go. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk going, and having Robert not be there.

No, today was going to be the day he let go.

Aaron knew he had to, for his own sanity, more than anything. He wouldn’t survive another heartbreak, he  _couldn’t_.

No, it was best to just accept that he and Robert had been given all the time they’d get, in Paris - that their one in a lifetime love was only meant to last that year, that anything more would just end in tears.

Aaron would love him forever, he would - but it was a case of right person, never a right time. He’d heard the phrase before, right person, wrong time, but he’d never really understood it until recently.

Robert was the right person. In his heart of hearts, Aaron knew Robert was the right person. He’d probably never meet anyone who he’d just click with, the way he’d just clicked with Robert, not in this lifetime.

Right person, wrong universe.

That was it, really. That was the end of their epic love story, the magical romance that had consumed his life for close to two years now.

Everything had to have an ending, and today, Aaron not going to the Eiffel Tower, that was ending the saga that was Aaron and Robert, once and for all.

He had a heavy heart, sure, but Aaron knew it was the right thing to do.

It was time to let Robert go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scrap was easy, Aaron decided. Tearing cars, and old machinery apart, it was easy. He’d gotten to the yard at half seven that morning, knowing sleep was lost to him as soon as he’d seen the date.

He just had to make it through today, and it would be over.

Aaron was sure the empty feeling in his stomach would go, as time went on. It felt like his heart was breaking all over again, but he’d get through it.

He would.

“Aaron!”

Aaron turned around to see Victoria and Adam approaching, an incredulous look on Victoria’s face. “Hiya,” he greeted, as though everything was completely normal, like today was any other day.

“Why aren’t you at home packing?” Victoria demanding, hands on hips, a stance so reminiscent of how Robert would stand when he was on a practically tough conference call, or when he and Aaron were arguing.

“Because I’m not going, I told you this already, Vic.” Aaron replied simply, keeping his focus on the car he was currently ripping apart. “Robert’s made his choice, and it wasn’t me.”

“ _Aaron_.”

“Vic, don’t.” Aaron warned. “I’ve made my decision, I’m not going. I can’t risk having my heart broken again, I can’t. I wouldn’t get through it - not with the court case coming up.”

Victoria gave him a sad look. “Are you sure?”

“Do you think I’ve not thought about this or something?” Aaron couldn’t help but be snappy, hating the pitying look on Victoria’s face that had appeared at the mere mention of the court case.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” Victoria said, putting a reassuring hand on Aaron’s arm.

“I won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Aaron turned to look at Adam, surprised his best mate was butting in like this. “Ads, come on, we’ve talked about this,” he said, shaking his head. The amount of nights they would sit, in the portacabin, drinking cans and just talking, talking about everything.

“You’ve said you don’t want to get hurt, but you never said if you’re in love with him or not,” Adam stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, him and Victoria clearly having had talked about this before coming to the yard.

Aaron didn’t like feeling as though he was being ganged up on. “I came here to not think about Robert,” he said, ripping off his gloves, tossing them onto the damp ground.

“Aaron, come on mate -“

“No.” Aaron interrupted, angry. “I need you both to be mates right now, yeah? I don’t need you to try and convince me to change my mind. I’m done, I’m done with Robert, and Paris, and all of that. You understand?”

Without waiting for a reply, Aaron stalked away from the yard, figuring the walk would clear his head.

A bit, at least.

He didn’t need people to try and talk him out of his decision, not today. Aaron knew he was doing what was best for him.

(It was what was best for him, right?)

(Right.)

Aaron found himself standing outside Smithy before he realised where he was, lifting a hand to knock on Paddy’s front door. Paddy looked a little frazzled, as he answered, clearly in the midst of something.

“I need a cup of tea, and someone who’s not going to tell me what to do with my life,” Aaron said, before Paddy could get a word in edgeways.

“Tea, I can do,” Paddy confirmed, stepping aside to let Aaron into the house, the distinct smell of something burning drifting into the tiny hallway. “Shit -  _fuck_  - I’m supposed to be cooking a pie, for later, it’s all gone wrong.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh as Paddy bustled away, leaving Aaron to toe off his boots in the hallway.

Smithy always felt like home, even now, years after he moved out. Aaron liked that, liked that he could always come back to Paddy and Rhona’s, and feel like it was somewhere he belonged.

“Today’s the day, isn’t it?” Paddy asked, switching off the oven, waving a tea towel around, as though that would fix the inevitably burnt mess that was sitting inside the oven.

“Mm.”

“Time to get the biscuits out,” Paddy said, standing on tiptoe to grab the nicer biscuits from the top shelf, busying himself making tea.

Aaron was content to watch Paddy for a few minutes, the methodological process of his sort of dad making tea relaxing to watch, the clink of the spoon against the chipped china mug the kind of familiar sound he needed to hear, there and then.

“Can I ask you something?”

Paddy set the two mugs down, the packet of biscuits following. “Of course,” he nodded, settling himself into the chair.

“Was it worth it? Everything you and Rhona have gone through.”

Paddy looked thoughtful for a second, dunking his biscuit into his tea, taking a soggy mouthful before he replied. “Yes.”

He sounded so sure, so definitive in his answer, it sort of shocked Aaron. “Even though you both hurt each other so much?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Paddy nodded. “We haven’t always gotten it right, me and Rhona,” he admitted. “But she’s still the only person I want to spend my life with, you know? She makes me happy, despite it all.”

Aaron was quiet for a second. “Robert’s hurt me so much, Paddy.”

“But you remember all the good times, don’t you?” Paddy said, knowing.

Aaron held his mug close to his chest, the warmth spreading through his entire body. It had been a damp August, nothing compared to the warm weather he’d lived through last summer, wrapped up and in love with Robert.

“He made me so happy,” Aaron said, focus on the biscuit wrapper, the bright blue lettering a welcome distraction. “What if I’m not doing the right thing, by not going to meet him today?”

“You’re the only one who knows whats right here, Aaron.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Nows the moment for you to tell me exactly what to do with my life.”

Paddy grinned. “I thought you didn’t want me interfering.”

“My heads a mess, Paddy,” Aaron sighed. “I woke up this morning and I thought I was doing the right thing, and now I’m not so sure.”

“I guess you need to ask yourself if you’re going to regret it,” Paddy said, taking a slug of his tea. “You don’t want to be living the rest of your life with regrets, do ya?”

Aaron was quiet for a second. “What if I go, and he doesn’t come?”

“Then you come home, and you let me and your mum look after ya, and you move on,” Paddy said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Aaron wished it was. He really did wish it was that easy to make the decision, to know what to do, but his head felt even more mashed than it had before, he felt even more unsure of himself.

He drained the last of his cup of tea, giving Paddy a grateful smile. “Thanks for the tea, Paddy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d said goodbye at the airport.

The whole year had been a cliche, really, so why would the last day they spent together be any different?

Aaron had stood, in departures, feeling less sad than he should have, watching as Robert checked in his bags, and got ready to leave him. It was funny, really, when you thought about how the end of a relationship was supposed to be the hardest part, the worst part, but somehow, someway, Aaron felt  _good_.

It was progress.

He’d watched as Robert carefully constructed a life for himself in Paris, made sure he put into place all the things he needed to make sure he could leave Chrissie, and still be able to run the Paris offices - or have contacts in Europe to start over, at least.

For weeks now, Aaron had watched as Robert had made all the arrangements he needed to so he could leave Chrissie within the year, and today, saying goodbye to Robert, it was the plan finally setting into motion.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Robert admitted quietly, the two of them standing to the side of the security entrance, people bustling around them, heading on holidays, heading home.

“Then don’t,” Aaron said, stepping a little closer to Robert, the familiar scent of Robert’s cologne filling his nostrils, the woody scent that seemed to linger on all of Aaron’s clothes these days already feeling nostalgic. “Don’t ever say goodbye to me.”

Robert gave him a sad smile, brushing a thumb along Aaron’s cheekbone. “How are you so okay? I feel like - I feel like I’m going to break apart, standing here.”

Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against Robert’s. “I’m okay because I know you’ll be mine in a year.”

Robert closed his eyes, leaning into Aaron’s touch. He looked so young, so vulnerable, it made Aaron’s heart ache. He mightn’t talk about it much, but Aaron could guess that the idea of going back to Boston, going back into the closet, it was hurting him.

It had to be hurting him. Aaron was hurting  _for_  him.

“It’s going to be the longest year of my life,” Robert admitted.

“Only 364 days now,” Aaron replied with a grin, hands on Robert’s waist as they stood, the airport bursting with noise around them. He wasn’t really noticing, didn’t much care they were very much in the way of the security queue.

“I’m going to count down every single one,” Robert promised, his hands knotted in the material of Aaron’s hoodie.

“Me too, I promise.”

“Just - just promise me you’ll be here in a year, Aaron,” Robert sounded desperate, pleading.

“I don’t have to promise, you know I’ll be here.”

Robert leaned in to kiss him properly, and as they moved together, kissed like it was the last one they were every going to get. Aaron could taste salt against his lips, and his heart lurched as he realised Robert was crying.

He’d never seen Robert cry, not properly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Aaron reassured, wiping away the worst of Robert’s tears. Robert looked as though he was breaking apart at the seams, like he was just going to fall apart entirely if Aaron let go.

“Being with you - it’s the first time in my life I’ve felt happy,” Robert admitted, voice thick with tears. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” Aaron shook his head. “I know - I know we said we wouldn’t keep in contact, this year, but if you need me, you call me. Okay? You can call me any time.”

“I love you,” Robert said, smiling through his tears.

“And I love you,” Aaron replied, leaning his forehead against Robert’s. “You’re going to miss your flight, if you don’t go.”

“I’d be okay with that.”

Aaron laughed, leaning back slightly. “364 days, Robert. I’ll be there.”

“364 days,” Robert echoed, shouldering his backpack, looking reluctant to join the queue to go through security. “Then it’ll be just me and you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but grin as he watched Robert join the security queue, rubbing his tear stained cheeks with an embarrassed hand. “Just me, and you - and Paris.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron felt his heart stop as he remembered his own words from a year ago.

_Just me, and you, and Paris._

He’d made Robert so many promises, reassured him that he would be there, and here he was, an hour or so to his flight, and he wasn’t ready to go, he wasn’t going to go.

He had to go.

Aaron was up the stairs in half a second, ignoring his mum’s shout about how it was like a herd of elephants going up the stairs, and Aaron please, we’ve got customers, desperately searching for his passport.

He hadn’t used it, not since he’d come home the previous year.

“AARON! Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re going to put a hole in them stairs, if you’re not careful.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder, shaking his head. “Mum, not now, okay? i need - have you seen my passport?”

Chas sat down on the edge of his bed, giving him a curious look. “Why? I thought you'd decided not to go.”

Aaron sat down heavily on the floor, giving a slight shrug. “I - I don’t want to regret it, if I don’t go,” he admitted, twisting at the sleeves of his hoodie. “What if he really is the love of my life, and I throw it all away because of one argument?”

“What if he’s not?” Chas countered.

“Then I can move on, can’t I?” Aaron shrugged, his mind made up now. He had to go, he had to go, and meet Robert.

“He really made you happy, didn’t he?” Chas had that familiar, ‘my baby boy is all grown up’ look on her face, the kind of expression he simultaneously loved and hated. He and his mum were good now, better than they ever had been, and her approval mattered to him.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Then you better take that chance, haven’t ya?” Chas said. “Try your sock drawer, you used to put all the important things in there.”

Aaron grinned at her. “Thanks mum.”

“You deserve some luck, Aaron,” Chas said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll ring Cain and have him drive you to the airport, shall I? You’ll need to get a wriggle on if you want to make it on time.”

Aaron looked at the time on his phone, scrambling to his feet again. “Fuck, how is it that late already? I’m going to miss my flight mum!”

“Not if you just grab your passport and go, I’ll call Cain!”

Aaron watched as his mum bustled out of the room, glancing at himself in the mirror. He didn’t exactly have time to shower, to make himself look vaguely put together, his hair a mess, beard overgrown.

He looked tired.

He _was_ tired.

Shaking his head, Aaron turned his focus to his wardrobe, ripping through the drawers, yanking things off the hangers until he found what he was looking for. It was a shirt, one Robert had bought him in Paris.

It was simple, just a plain dark grey, but it had been expensive - the kind of expensive that Robert knew he wouldn’t accept, so he had taken all the tags off, insisting Aaron just take it, and be happy about it.

It was the nicest thing he owned, and if Aaron tried hard enough, focused for long enough, the shirt still smelled like Robert’s cologne, that familiar woody scent lingering in the fabric.

Shrugging it on with his best jeans, Aaron stuck his feet into his sneakers, dousing himself in body spray, and hoping it was enough to compensate for the fact he’d skipped a shower that morning.

“Cain’s outside!” Chas hollered up the stairs, Aaron’s heart racing in his chest as he grabbed his backpack, shoving a jacket, and his wallet inside, finally managing to find his passport shoved down the back of his sock drawer.

Aaron was downstairs in a matter of seconds, Chas standing at the backdoor, a grin on her face. “I’ll call you when I land, yeah?”

Chas pressed a sloppy, lipstick stained kiss to his cheek. “Go and get your fella, eh? Don’t worry about me.”

His fella.

In a matter of hours, thats what Robert could be.

Cain was sitting behind the wheel, a bored expression on his face as he waited. “You’re leaving this to the last minute, aren’t ya?” he commented, shifting the car into the gear, and pulling out onto the main road.

“You know me, love a bit of drama,” Aaron grinned, feeling at ease for the first time in weeks - months, really.

They drove along in silence for a few miles, the countryside turning slowly to suburbs, the roads getting busier as they headed into Leeds, the traffic practically bumper to bumper.

“You know I’m not one for being soppy, n’all,” Cain said, flicking on his indicator. “But you deserve summat to work out for ya.”

Aaron looked over at his uncle, smiling widely. “Being with Harriet has turned you into a right soft lad.”

“Take the compliment and sling your hook,” Cain rolled his eyes, pulling into the drop off space in front of the departures. “And Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“If he’s not there, don’t let it mess with your head,” Cain said. “Me and your mum, we’ll sort ya. Sort him, if you like.”

“Thanks Cain.”

Aaron figured a thank you was enough, instead of launching into a spiel about how Robert would definitely be there.

How he’d have to be there, how nothing in his life would ever make sense again if Robert wasn’t there.

How he wasn’t sure if he could move on, get over it.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Aaron turned his focus to the airport in front of him, scanning the departure boards for his gate information. He had twenty minutes until boarding closed, which was barely going to be enough time.

If he missed this flight, if he didn’t make it to Paris for midnight - if he left Robert there, standing alone, well, Aaron wasn’t so sure he'd be able to forgive himself for it, forgive himself for talking himself into not going.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, Aaron started to leg it through the airport, the queue at security looking relatively okay. He was sure he was getting strange looks from people as he jogged through the airport, pushing and shoving past people to try and get to the front of the queue.

Fifteen minutes.

Aaron practically lobbed his shoe at the security officer behind the desk, giving her an apologetic look as he skidded across the shiny lino floor, heading for the body scanner.

And something beeped.

“Sir, we’ll have to do a quick search to confirm you’re not carrying anything illegal.”

Aaron was jittery, as he stood, the bored looking security officer patting him down. “My flight is in fifteen minutes,” he said, as though that might hurry the security officer up.

“You should have gotten here earlier than.”

Aaron gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to respond with a snarky comment. He was really pushed for time, the clock ticking by too quickly.

Finally, the security officer let him go, Aaron shoving his sneakers on, and jogging toward the duty free shops.

Gate 38.

Ten minutes.

“I’m not missing this flight,” Aaron muttered under his breath, breaking out into a proper run, face red and sweaty as he ran the length of the airport.

Five minutes.

The boarding gate was empty, as Aaron arrived, the air hostess clearly gathering her gear to board the flight herself.

“Boarding is closed sir, I’m sorry.”

“Please, I have to get on this flight,” Aaron pleaded, willing himself not to burst into tears at the thought of not being allowed on the flight.

“Boarding closed at 7:15pm, sir,” she said apologetically, shaking her head. “I can try and get you on the next flight?”

“No - look, I need to be in Paris before midnight,” Aaron pleaded with her. “It’s my boyfriend, I haven’t seen him in a year, and tonights our anniversary, I _need_ to be there.”

The air hostess gave him a sympathetic look, picking up her walkie talkie. Aaron waited impatiently as she spoke to one of her colleagues, praying to every God out there that he’d make it on to this flight.

He had to get there.

“They haven’t closed the doors yet, so you can board,” she said, scanning his boarding pass, glancing over his passport. “Next time, please arrive at the time indicated on the departure boards.”

Aaron could have kissed her. “There wont be a next time, I swear.”

Without waiting for an answer, Aaron took off at a run again, heading for the airplane.

He was going to make it.

Aaron was going to be in Paris at midnight, and he was just hoping Robert would be too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron barely made it to the Eiffel Tower in time. It was five to midnight, and the place was full to bursting with tourists, the crowd thick as he desperately searched out Robert.

They’d agreed to meet right under the tower, right in the centre, and Aaron was beginning to think that hadn’t been their best idea. He was never going to be able to find Robert, he was never going to find him in the midst of all these people.

Aaron was on the verge of tears as he looked around wildly, desperate to spot Robert’s familiar blond hair.

Maybe he hadn’t come.

(No, Aaron couldn’t let himself believe that, couldn’t let himself think that.)

(It’d ruin him, if Robert didn’t come.)

Aaron saw him, just as the Eiffel Tower lit up golden, the sky turning to the usual golden sunset the lights caused, Robert standing in the midst of the tourists. He looked incredible, wearing that maroon suit he’d worn the first time they’d gone on a proper posh date, the one where they’d ended up having dinner in McDonalds.

He’d cut his hair again, Aaron noted, frozen to the spot. Robert had that stupidly long fringe going on again, spiked up off his forehead, looking ever the Parisian businessman he always had when they had been together.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Robert was the first to move. He had a rose in his hand, one of those ones tourist were always caught to buy, paying over the odds for a half dead flower.

“I nearly didn’t,” Aaron admitted, feeling like a right idiot, his backpack still on his back, the straps an uncomfortable distraction from the man in front of him.

“What changed your mind?”

“I…” Aaron trailed off. “I remembered that day, when I dropped you off at the airport.”

Robert looked instantly caught up in the memory, thinking of that day, 364 days ago now. “That changed your mind?” he looked confused, wondering why that day, of all the ones they’d shared together, had been the one to change his mind.

“364 days, and it’ll be just you, me, and Paris,” Aaron quipped, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

“It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Its midnight,” Aaron looked up at the still glittering tower, the gathered tourists oohing at the light show. It had been a year since he’d last since it, last seen the spectacle Robert was so obsessed with, and for once, Aaron found himself seeing the appeal of it.

It felt like  _magic_.

It was midnight in Paris, and they were finally getting their second (first?) chance.

“It’s midnight,” Robert echoed, clearly unable to hold himself back anymore, pulling Aaron in for a kiss that knocked the breath out of him entirely. Aaron couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Robert’s shoulders, kissing the other man for all he was worth.

It had been so long, since he’d been able to do this, and yet somehow, it felt like the most normal thing in the world. Kissing Robert had always felt right, always felt like he was coming home.

They kissed, and kissed until they were both red faced and breathless, staring at each other with equally dopey grins.

“What do we do now?” Aaron asked, old memories of being Robert’s secret, being second to Chrissie, coming flooding back now he was in Paris again, now he was with Robert again.

“I have a job, with a company based out of Paris - and I’ve put a deposit on a flat.”

Aaron’s face fell. He couldn’t leave Emmerdale, couldn’t leave until the court case was over.

“I don’t start until October.”

“What?”

Robert fixed him with an intent gaze. “I’m coming home to Emmerdale with you,” he said, as though it was obvious. “You’re going to get through the trial, and I’m going to be there every step of the way.”

“Why?”

“Because its just you and me now,” Robert reassured. “And when its all over, we decide.”

“Decide what?” Aaron felt completely overwhelmed, the year he’d spent alone,  _lonely,_ already feeling like a lifetime ago.

“If we stay here, in Paris, and make a go of things,” Robert said, his grip on Aaron’s waist tight. “Or if we make a life for ourselves in Emmerdale.”

“You’d move to Emmerdale, just to be with me?” Aaron knew how much Robert hated Emmerdale, how much he didn’t want to spend his life in a place that was so tied to memories of his father, the village reminding him of all the time he hadn’t gotten to have with his mother.

“I’m done being away from you, Aaron,” Robert shook his head. “Wherever we end up, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

Aaron couldn’t stop the tears welling in his eyes, wiping roughly at his face with the soft material of his shirt sleeve.

“What’s wrong?”

“I almost didn’t come,” Aaron choked out. “What if I hadn’t come, Robert?”

“Hey, don’t think about it,” Robert shrugged it off. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Barely.”

“You want to know what I think?” Robert said, continuing before Aaron had a chance to answer. “I think that even if you hadn’t come tonight, we’d have found our way back to each other in the end. If you hadn’t come tonight, I’d have come to Emmerdale to find out why.”

“You would have?”

Robert nodded. “I love you, Aaron - with everything I have,” he said, as though the words actually needed saying. “I would never have given up on you, on us.”

“Me neither,” Aaron found himself saying, knowing it was true the second he’d said it. He’d felt like he could have given up, that morning, but in his heart of hearts, he’d always known there was no way he could have ever just walked away from Robert, without a second thought, without one last conversation.

“I have one more thing,” Robert admitted, untangling himself from Aaron, rooting in his pocket for something.

“You what?” Aaron was completely confused. He thought they’d said all they needed to say, if he was honest. Their plans could wait until tomorrow, the details of it all could be worked out over breakfast.

Robert grinned, the expression lighting up his entire face as he dropped to one knee, holding out a ring box.

“Robert -“

“Just, let me talk, and then you can yell at me for being embarrassing,” Robert interrupted, giving him a pleading look.

Aaron nodded. “Okay.”

“This isn’t me asking you to set a date, or even wear the ring,” Robert said, glancing at the two matching rings in the box. “This is me making a promise to you, that you are always going to be my priority in life.”

“You don’t need a ring to prove that,” Aaron couldn’t help but interrupt softly.

“No,” Robert agreed, inclining his head slightly. “I know that. But is it so bad to want the rings? Want the wedding day, the shared bank account, to be able to call you my husband?”

Aaron couldn’t help his smile. “Go on, ask me properly then.”

“Aaron, I met you two years ago this month, and you turned my entire world upside down. That night I asked you for directions on the metro, I didn’t think it would turn out to be the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. I’ve loved you nearly every single day since then, and I want to love you for the rest of my life, I want to chose you every day for the rest of our lives together. You’ve given me the kind of life, the family, I thought I’d never have. You’ve made it so easy for me to be so truthful about who I am, and who I want, and I want  **you**. Will you marry me, Aaron?”

Aaron couldn’t even be embarrassed that he was tearing up again, the depth, the meaning of Robert’s words sinking into every inch of him, feeling him with the kind of joy he hadn’t felt in 364 days.

“Yes.”

People always said it was supposed to be the easiest yes you ever say, but Aaron hadn’t believed it would ever feel so spectacular, so  _right_. He hadn’t really ever imagined himself as marriage material, if he was honest, but Robert was sliding a ring on his finger that proved otherwise.

Easiest yes of his life.

“Just you, me, and Paris then,” Robert beamed, brushing his lips against Aaron’s, Aaron unable to do anything but breathe in every inch of his fiancé, Robert wearing the exact same cologne he had done a year ago.

The cologne he’d get to smell on the man he loved, every single day from now, until forever.

Aaron clung tightly to Robert as he echoed his words, the heavy feeling he’d carried for so many months now gone, his heart light and his mind on there and then, on  _living_ , not just surviving day to day, waiting for someone who might not ever his.

Robert was  ** _his_**  now.

“Just you, me and Paris.”

(It was twenty three minutes past midnight in Paris, and Aaron’s life felt like it had just started all over again.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**fin.**

 

 

 

 


End file.
